
"'^^^6 



O^ 




GOLDEN -=-ROD. 



POEMS 



i2> 



BY — 






G)%«TROFTS. 




OMAHA: 

Nye & Johnson, Publishers. 
1889. 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1889, by 

G. W. CKOFTS, 

In the office of the liibrarian of Congress, Washington, D. C, 






•vU -siy ^[^ ^U ^L-- 4^ '^l■^ ^^ '"I'" •^i-" "n1" 'nI'" "i-^ ^^ 
TO 

WILLIAM H. BUSBEY, ESQ., 

IS I NS CK I H Kl), 

WITH 

S I N C E R K R E (i A 11 D , 

THIS 

L I T T L E \' O L i: MK OF SO N *i . 

^ ^ ^|. ^\-^ ^1^ -1- -1- -I- -,- -i' -]- '1- -r- -?• 




A Christmas Carol 

A Christmas Hymn 

A Contrast 

Act To-day 

A Day in June. 

All the Day Louii- 

Alone, Yet not Alone 

A Memory 

A Mother's Final Kest.. 

An Easter Carol 

An Infant Sleeping 

Anna 

A Parent's (Jrief 

Apple Blossoms 

ASong of Life 

A Song of Motlier-Love. 

Aspiration 

A Thorn in Every Cr()\\'n. 

Attainment 

At the Patriots' Graves.... 

Autumn Signs 

A Wedding Hymn 

A Year in Paradise 

Baby Ellis 

liarbara 

Be Happy 

P.e Kind 

Beyond the Divide 

Blanche 

By and By 

liy the AYayside 

Can We Forget Them 

Centennial Hymn 

Childish Things 

Come Back Again 

Courage 

Crocker's Brigade 

Death 

Deathless Fame 

Deatli of tlie Mule 

DeiMeatory Hymn 



age 
198 

84 
IGO 
157 

94 
14(5 

ir>i> 

97 

r»;> 

191 

w 

100 
171 
113 
IK! 
104 
8() 
178 

ior> 

141 
174 

i(;.-> 

121 

i;« 

100 
VM 
1C6 
172 
119 

4() 
179 
193 

42 
204 
187 

28 
183 
144 
138 
175 
10(> 



CONTENTS. 

Page 



nn 



J)cst'rte(l 

Don't be Mean I'^'J' 

Down in (Jeorgia ^^^ 

Do Vou Kegret It 35 

J)ie;un-Lana (59 

Duty 15^ 

Kaster Angels 19'> 

Easter Lilies 23 

Easter Morn 19* 

Echoes of the Past 142 

Envy 156 

EttaShattuek 180 

Ever Speak as You Pass By 173 

Eainnount Park 24 

Falling Leaves • '33 

Farewell 207 

Fifty Golden Years 1<> 

Flow on, Flow on 170 

(ianyinede 161 

(i. A. K. Funeral Hymn 167 

(iod's Presence 143 

(kK)d-Xight 11^> 

<;o, Plant a Flower m 

Have Hope «5 

He Giveth His Beloved Sleep 21 

He Lives 1^2 

Her Eighteenth Birthday 127 

Hide Me S^ 

Homesickness 37 

Human Friendship ir>9 

I Care Not to Sing for the Gay 103 

I Love You, Dear S2 

I'm Glad the World Goes Pound 13(; 

Innocence li'l 

In Passing 27 

1 Sleep. But My Heart Waketh 114 

.folm B. (rough 115 

Kind Words 72 

Lass of the Posy Cheek 22 

T>ife and Deatli 122 

Life's Day 10 

Life's Mystery isi 

Little Belle 5i 

Long, Long Ago 147 

I^ove 70 

Marah 15 

March Winds •. 3(; 

Move Forward 74 

Murmurinij; 58 



CONTEXTS. 

Page 

My Friend GO 

My Motlier- Earth -. 181) 

My Motlier's Grave 2(5 

My Motlier "s Voice 158 

Nature 64 

Nii^ht 151 

Not in A'ain 7j< 

November HI 

Of Few Days 135 

Oh! Could One Die 18G 

Old Familiar Faces 112 

One by One 80 

Only 154 

Oregon, Illinois 103 

Our Fallen Heroes 31 

Paul 93 

Pity the Poor G8 

I'remonitions , 205 

(i>ueen Sunnner is Dying 122 

Kegret 175 

Rest 155 

Saturday Night 117 

Seek Not to Wound 67 

Sheridan 73 

Sixteen To- Day 203 

Song 71 

Song 8!) 

Song 137 

Some Day 118 

Spring 200 

Strength 130 

Tenderness 188 

Tender Things are First to Die 44 

Thanksgiving Eve 102 

The Album Quilt 70 

The Baby's Death 195 

The Banana Vender 108 

The Beautiful C5 

The Bee Knows the Flower 41 

The Blackbirds" Song 43 

The Bridge 75 

The Death of Eighty-Five 13 

The Dying Year ;^1 

The Eskimo's Love-Song 90 

The Fever of Life 123 

The Good Die Young KH) 

The Goodness of God ;i,s 

The Good Old Days 201 

The Good Shepherd 197 



CONTENTS. 

The Heroes of Peace and of Home 148 

The Humble Poet 57 

Tlie Invalid !^:5 

The King's Lesson 13- 

The Life to Come *^> 

The Little I Can Do 101 

The Little Shoe 33 

The LongNiglit •'+ 

The Love of God "<> 

The Maiden and Death -0^ 

The Ministry of Sorrow 177 

The Missomi 183 

The New Year 48 

The Olderl Grow .- 79 

The Old Stone School House H 

The Pianist -02 

There are no Stars 124 

There is a Balm 134 

There's Kest Beyond I4r> 

The Robin's Welcome Od'' 120 

The Rusthng of the Corn 87 

The Sabbath 40 

The Sea 168 

Tliese Golden Autumn Days 128 

TheStruggler 90 

The Sweetest Song r)0 

The Unknown Soldier's Grave 77 

The Unrecognized 100 

This Life a Dream ">(! 

To a Daughter 120 

To a Friend 153 

To-Day and To-Morrow 85 

To Kate • 172 

To My Friends 131 

To the Discouraged •••■ 107 

To the High-School Class of "88 IGO 

To the Students of "Old Sandstone" (31 

Trial 128 

Trust in God 142 

'Twas While I Mused 145 

'Twill Matter Little 34 

Unseltishness 86 

"Via Lucis Via Crucis"' 

AVeariness 185 

Wedding Hymn 165 

Wlicn 105 

Wild Violets 173 

"Winthrop's Colony 39 

Yesterday 54 






^. 










"VIA LUCIS VIA CRUCIS; 



BEYOND a doubt " the way of Vn^hX is by the cross ; 
The path of ^lory and of gain is by the loss 
Of much we mortals love and seek most firm to hold, 
E'en as the miser counts and hides his shining gold. 

God knoweth what is best for us ; He marks our way 
Far up the rugged hill where sweet and dawning day 
More quickly comes, and gladdens our enraptured sight. 
And darkness dies and all the world is filled with light. 

He makes us weary ; for the weary there is rest ; 
He bitter sorrow gives ; the eyes that wee[) are blest ; 
He plants the piercing thorn : but by the thorn the rose 
Puts forth its mossv bud, and then in beautv glows. 



He wounds, and yet His gentle hand doth make us whole ; 
He grieves, and yet His comforts lift the drooping soul 
Close to His side until His warm and loving kiss 
Makes us forget our woe in ecstacies of bliss. 

Out of our seeming ill some good will surely come : 
It was a homeless one who sang of " Home Sweet Home ;" 
The torn and bruised grape sheds forth the purple wine, 
And wounds create white pearls beneath the ocean's brine. 

Were there no race to run, no battle tierce to fight ; 
Were there no pains to rack, no fears, no death, no night, 
Then there would be no crown to win, no laurel green 
No endless life to gain beyond this transient scene. 

Then let us prize it well, this life that God has given. 
For if its path be rough, 'tis but the way to heaven ; 
Amid its sorest trials may each one learn to know 
That from its "seeming ills our choicest blessings flow." 



LIFE'S DAY. 



INTO the tield of life we pass 
At early morn. The jeweled grass 
With sunbeams kissed spreads at our feet ; 
And youth, like morn, all pure and sweet 
And bright is filled with rosy dreams ; 
While in the purple heavens gleams 
The star of fortune and of fame, 
And in its light we read a name— 
O dream, most sweet, it is our own : 
More glorious still, it shines alone ! 

The sun speeds on ; the star no more 
Is seen. Illusive dreams are o'er. 
Fortune and fame so coy and fleet 
But mock our weary, way-worn feet. 
Ambition's fairest prize has flown ; 
A name appears, but not our own. 

What have we then for all our pains?— 
For all our prayers y Are there no grains 
Of good to show ? Has all been lost 
In that our cherished plans are crossed, 
And dissipated each fond dream 
As snow flakes melt within the stream ? 

Ah, no ! See how our souls are filled 
With wealth of harvests we have tilled ; 
With meekness, patience, love and truth : 
Blest springs of everlas^-ing youth ; 
Bright jewels of the crown within ; 
Ripe fruit of life's sharp discipline ; 
On which there dawns the twilight gray 
Of Dav thnt dies not with the dciy. 



10 



THE OLD STONE SCHOOL-HOUSE. 



THERE is an old-time school-house ; 
It stands upon a hill ; 
'Tis built of yellow sandstone ; 
I think I see it still 
Glistening in the sunlight, 

Just as it did of yore. 
When a fair-haired, barefoot lad 
I entered thro' the door. 



Its walls are square and solid. 

And pointed is its roof ; 
.Constructed for duration, 

Against the storms 'tis proof ; 
But the good souls that planned it 

Long since have passed away ; 
The hands so strong that reared it 

Have moldered back to clav. 



Ah, well do I remember 

Those days so sweet and fair ; 
The sun came up in beauty. 

And balmy was the air ; 
The grass was wet with dew-drops 

And bathed my naked feet ; 
While meadow-lark and robin, 

Made melodv so sweet. 



I trudged then to that school-house. 

With freshly buttered bread 
Within my dinner-basket — 

By mother-hands 'twas spread — 
Her kiss was on my forehead. 

And I can ne'er forget 
Those loving eyes so tender ; 

I see them smiling vet. 



And fjathered there were playmates 

Bright boys and rosy girls : 
Floating on the air again, 

I see those golden curls ; 
I hear the merry laughter : 

The shout and lusty call, 
And join the jolly pastime, 

In race, and bat and ball. 




I hear the chiming school-bell ; 

Its memry will not die. 
The call to which I Ustened 

And (iuickly did comply ; 
Nor how we took our places. 

Each in his chosen seat ; 
O how the stillness settled 

As quiet grew our feet ! 

Nor those long hours of study : 

How drowsily they passed ! 
Those days were each like ages, 

So long they seemed to last ; 
But joyful was the moment 

When we were all dismissed, 
And round our patient teacher 

We gathered to be kissed. 



V2 



O clays so bright and golden ! 

O days of life's blest June I 
Like open morning-glories 

Ye closed uj) all too soon ; 
With misty eyes I see you, 

And beautiful ye seem — 
Again will ye not greet me 

Beyond the mystic stream".' 






THE DEATH OF EIGHTY-FIVE. 



TO-NIGHT the dear old year will die ; 
The year eighteen hundred and eighty-tive 
To-night will close its bleared eye ; 
Beyond it cannot pass, howe'r it strive. 
That mark, that line unseen, 

Drawn by the hand of Him who set the spheres 
Within their orbs, and drew between 

The line that separates the passing years. 



To-night the dear old year must die, 

The hour of twelve will seal its final doom ; 
'Twill then bid all the world good-bye. 

And backward fall into that mighty tomb 
Where millions like it in the past 

Have gone — gone to be seen on earth no more ; 
To that mysterious bourn so vast, 

That awful gulf of Time without a sh(M-e. 



i:] 



To-night the clear old year will die, 

The year that brought us all the seasons sweet ; 
The rosy morn, the amber sky 

Of eve ; ripe fruits and fields of golden wheat ; 
The lily and the violet, 

And pearly dew ; bright things to cheer our way 
Such as we never can forget 

Nor cease to love, while lasts life's fleeting day. 



At noon of night the year will die ; 

Its work will theft be done ; its record made 
And written down indelibly 

In brightest characters that ne'er shall fade ; 
Its good, its bad, its love, its hate, 

Its all, will then be sealed ; not e'en a thought 
Can be recalled — 'twill be too late 

To change the slightest deed our hands have wrought. 

Alas, to-night the year wdll die ; 

It seems I cannot have it go so soon, 
To have its weary spirit fly 

Out in this white and ghostly light of moon 
To be numbered never again, 

Only as in the past — it brings a tear 
Unto my eye — it brings a pain 

Unto my heart to see the dying year. 

But though the dear old year must die 

The moment gloomy night gives way to morn, 
I know I should not weep nor sigh, 

For lo, another golden year is born. 
Songs then shall mingle with my tears, 

Hope's brightest rays mix with my sad regret, 
For in the passing of these years 

I shall be something nobler, truer yet. 



u 



MARAH. 

WHEN Israel came to Maralrs spring 
And of its treasures quatfed, 
Alas ! what cherished hopes took wing ! 
Alas ! the bitter draught ! 

Dying of thirst they could not drink 

The bitter waters there, 
They murmuring stood upon the brink 

Of sadness and despair. 

But God who made His people free 

Was at the mercy-seat, 
And with 'a simple desert-tree 

Made all those waters sweet. 

And then they quaffed the liquid up, 

Their thirst no longer burned : 
They raised to heaven a brimming cup. 

Their grief to joy had turned. 

And thus it is with pilgrims now 

In life's drear wilderness ; 
In disappointments oft they bow 

By Marahs of distress. 

But God still lives their cries to hear 

When they for comfort yearn, 
And every bitter woe and tear 

He will to sweetness turn. 



15 




FIFTY GOLDEN YEARS. 



Kead on Thanksgiviiiii Day at the golden weddini- of Mr. and Mrs. Wni. 
Smith, of Sheridan, Illinois, who were horn and married in Berkshire, Mass., and 
who came to Illinois in June. \m>. Imilding their log cahin on the same spot where 
their residence now stands. 

FAR ])ack amid the Berkshire hills, 
Where men of iron frames and wills. 
And women, fair and sweet, were born, 
My theme bey-ins. 'Twas in the morn 
Of this glorious century, 
When, like a Hood from sea to sea. 
Progress and light have swept along. 
Suggestive of Isaiah's song : 

The wilderness has blossomed wide ; 
The rose has bloomed the wall beside. 

The myrtle has displaced the thorn ; 
The box and fir the plains adorn. 

Rich harvests wave o'er hill and vale. 
And singing fills the lonely dale. 

An Eden lost seems here restored 
As bv the hand of Christ the Lord. 



IG 



Far back amid those verdant hills 

A picture bright my vision tills : 

A stalwart form, and by his side 

A maiden sweet, his promised bride. 

Who, by a word, are joined in one ; 

And thus, a journey is begun. 

Destined to pass through many years 

Of joy, of struggle, and of tears ; 

And, as united there they stand. 

Heart joined to heart, and hand to hand, 

A golden light bursts from above 

And crowns the scene with hea\enly love. 

Anon angelic voices sweet 

Chant this love-song the hour to greet : 

Love is a bird 
Whose notes are thrilling ; 

Love is a cup 
With nectar filling. 

Love is a flower 
Of fragrance sweetest ; 

Love is a j^outh 
Of foot the fleetest. 

Love is a boon 
To mortals given. 

And love is all 
There is of heaven. 

Love is life, and life is doing. 
Souls that love are still pursuing, 
And, subservient to its yearning 
Strive to keep the love-light burning, 

* * * sic * 

Hung in the West they see a star — 
The star of Empire and of Day 
That ever westward takes its way — 
That smiles and beckons them afar ; 
Afar from scenes of joy and mirth. 
Far from the land that gave them birth. 
From many a lovely nook and spot. 



From woody glen and rocky grot, 

From gurgling springs and limpid streams 

In which were caught the flashing gleams 

As glided in, and glided out 

Of their retreat, the speckled trout. 

Away from dear old New England 

Where dwelt so much that made life grand 

In comfort, culture, home and heart. 

How hard it was for them to part 

And snap the cords that bound them there, 

And journey to a country where 

Might still be seen the Indian's trail. 

And heard his war-cry in the gale 

That swept across the ocean-waste, 

A broad expanse, cheerless and vast ; 

Houseless, roadless, fenceless and drear, 

With much to do and much to fear! 

Still they came— latter Pilgrims they, 
The heralds of that glorious day 
Now shining in its brilliancy, 
Broad o'er the land from sea to sea. 

t. *• ^ * * 

'Twas in the rosy month of June, 
When soft the sun shone, and the moon 
Smiled o'er the nodding prairie flowers, 
And birds built nests in leafy bowers, 
The sound of ax might have been heard, 
And fall of trees, and soon appeared 




IS 



Th3 humble cabin — humble I own, 
Yet honored more than any throne 
Or palace, graced with art and gems, 
By those who boast of diadems 
And nothing more. True royal blood 
Is that which brings the greatest good, 
That which transforms the plainest things 
And makes them fit for sceptered kings. 

And here they toiled and labored on 
Thro' golden years now past and gone. 
To them came joy and sorrow too, 
And in it all they found it true 
That, as we sow, thus shall we reap ; 
And tho' at times the eye may weep, 
Yet when we gain at last the go:d. 
Those tears lend beauty to the soul. 

Now^ at the close of fifty years 
The harvest of their lives appears — 
How happy too, as they behold 
Those golden sheaves on plains of gold! 

And, as to-day we look abroad 

Upon this soil our parents trod 

Ere we were born to share the strife 

And struggle for a better life. 

Our hearts burst forth with patriot joy. 

And thus we sing of Illinois : 

I love thee, O my native state! 
For thou art beautiful and great, 
And with thy sisters thou dost stand 
Peerless, magnificent and grand. 

Thy plains, thy woods, thy lovely hills. 
Thy meadows green, thy rippling rills, 
Thy rivers, pure as cloudless skies ; 
All these bring gladness to my eyes. 



19 



On thee has lavish Nature smiled 
And claimed thee as her darling child, 
Clothed thee in robes of silken sheen 
And crowned thee dear Columbia's Queen. 

Not these alone, my pride elate, 
For outward gifts make not the State ; 
And thou hast wealth a thousand fold 
Richer than mines of finest gold. 

I look upon thy vine-clad homes, 
Thy altars, with their sun-kissed domes. 
Thy schools, that dot thy prairies wide, 
Thy presses with their ceaseless tide 

Of thought, pulsating strong and free, 
Like depths of the unsounded sea ; 
And here., I And, are themes sublime, 
Overleaping all the bounds of time. 

And still there is an excellence — 
That of the soul and inner sense — 
'Tis one thou hast in large degree, 
That brings its glory unto thee. 

'Tis thy inherent love of right, 
Thy love of justice, truth and light. 
And things most beautiful and good 
That stamp the seal of brotherhood. 

And this it is, that makes thee great, 
O Empire grand ! O regal State ! 
No foe can tear thy ensign down. 
No robber snatch thy jeweled crown. 

From height to height of conquest thou 
Dost make the haughty tyrant bow ; 
While in the air thy banner waves 
O'er heroes' homes and heroes' graves. 



'20 



Yet, were it not for souls like you. 
Dear parents, fond, and tried and true. 
This happy song we could not sinj;-. 
And no such tribute could we brin.i;. 

Ycjfu laid the great foundation here 
That lifts our state without a peer 
High on the jjinnasle of fame. 
And gave to it its honored name ; 
And now. in turn, we honor you ; 
At your dear feet sweet flowers we strew. 
Around your brows green laurel twine. 
And for you pray that heaven's divine 
And choicest blessings may come down. 
And crown vou with a fadeless crown. 



HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP. 



DELIGHTFUL thought! but. Lord, I fain would know 
Whom tliy beloved are, thou blessest so. 

Is't he of wealth or fame, who shines afar 
L^pon the eyes of men like some bright star i 

Or he of lore profound, to whom dark things 
Are clear ? Who soars aloft on eagle's wings ? 

Or he of silvery tongue, wliose melting strains 
Like drops of honey fall, and silence reigns ? 

Or he of vast domain, whose word controls 
An almost countless host of human souls ":' 

" No one is my beloved," He says to me. 
" No one, unless imbued with charity. 

With charity — with love, all pure and deejj ; 
To him and him alone, I give my sleep." 

And so I lift my eyes to heaven above. 

And pray, " My Lord, give sleep: but first give love." 



•_'i 



LASS OF THE ROSY CHEEK. 



LASS of the rosy cheek 
That the soft zephyrs seek 
When the new morn tinteth the sky 
And the birds wake to song 
In the green boughs among, 
O lass of the love-beaming eye ! 



Lass for whom falls the dew 
When the deep sky is blue 

And the sweet violets bloom ; 
Lass for whom dawns the light 
When dies the summer night 

And the air sinks low with perfume. 

Lass of the honied lips 
Where the bee drunken sips 

And Cupid f ashioneth his bow ; 
From whence he tips his darts 
And aims at trembling hearts 

And at your feet layeth them low. 

Lass whom the angels bless 

And to their bosoms press — 
O that I were an angel too ! 

I would draw near to you, 

Ever be dear to you. 
Forever and ever so true ! 




EASTER LILIES. 



EASTER lilies pure and white. 
Emblems fair of life and light ; 
Easter lilies, bud and bloom 
Close beside the empty tomb. 

God's sweet darlings here below 
In this world of grief and woe, 
Words could not so well express 
Heaven's love and tenderness. 

In your bosoms we may read : 
" He now lives wlio once was dead ; 
Heavenward lift your weeping eyes 
To those mansions in the skies. 

" Look unto the pearly gates, 
There thy loved-one for thee waits ; 
List, that voice that speaks to thee, 

'Haste thy comuig unto me.' " 

Easter lilies, by your breath 
Taught I am there is no death : 
By the white light of your bloom 
I behold an empty tomb ! 



FAIRMOUNT PARK, COUNCIL BLUFFS. 



FAIRMOUNT!— well nHinecl— no mount could be more fair 
Than thou. No mount could more of beauty wear — 
A beauty of the gentler sort — serene 
And sweet —a princess clothed in green 
Of silk, soft shimmering in the whitest light — 
My heart is won, and wed my raptured sight. 

Tell me what power these verdant billows tossed 
In such voluptuous forms? What spirit crossed 
The bounds of heaven's bright paradise above 
And made this realm tit for a bower of love? 
Fit for the gods? From what pure fountain Ho wed 
In hoary ages past this matchless ode? 

Howe'er it came — from what great loom of thought, 
Or power, or love in heaven or earth— there's naught 
More beautiful in this great world of ours, 
Where nature blossoms into rarest flowers, 
Of hill, or vale, of mountain or of stream — 
Nothing in art, nor in a poet's dream. 

Indeed! the poets here might dream and drink 

Their fill amid these waves that rise and sink; 

Amid these softly undulating lines; 

Amid these vales and rounded heights, where shrines 

In countless hosts unto the Muses rise. 

And fire invite from out the azure skies. 

From north to south, from east to west, as far 
As eye can waft the soul there's naught to mar 
Sublimity! And yonder gently sweeps 
Missouri's yellow tide; and yonder sleeps 
Her beauteous babe, fair Manawa, a gem 
Resplendent in her royal diadem. 



24 



How sweet from these blest heights to see the sun 

On golden chariot-wheels his circuit run 

Prom east to west — or see the silvery moon 

Shine forth, draped round with purple clouds of June; 

While darkening shadows sleep beneath the breeze 

That wafts the clouds and whisi)ers to the trees! 

And O these fairy glens! these mystic shade-;! 
What restfulness their peaceful depths invades! 
Here one may lie, and the whole world forget 
With all its bickerings, and noise and fret. 
Here one may lie, and resting, gather strength 
For contests great, that all must meet at length. 

Fairmount, forever fair, dressed as thou art 
In green; or, when the summer days depart 
And autumn comes, and red the sumach glows, 
And smiles the golden-rod; or winter's snows 
Enrobe thy lovely form in garments white — 
Still fair by sun of day or star of night. 

O that I had a poet's melting fire! 

could I touch Apollo's golden lyre! 

I'd sing thy praise aright. I can but dream ; 

1 can but softly float on thy full stream 
Of ecstacy and bliss. I can but rest 

And insinration draw from thy sweet breast. 




25 



MY MOTHER'S GRAVE. 

I STOOD beside my mother's grave 
Upon the verdant hill, 
While o'er my soul in mountain-wave 
Emotions worked their will. 

I thought I saw beneath the sod 
The dust from whence I sprang, 

When love untold swept down from God, 
And bells of joy were rang. 

I thought I heard her voice once more— 
That voice, how sweet to me ! — 

Float gently from the farther shore 
Beyond the silent sea. 

And in the lilac's purple bloom, 

And from the tender grass, 
And on the wings of sweet perfume 

Her spirit seemed to pass. 

And as it passed I felt my heart 
Leap high in transports wild. 

And all my cares seemed to depart, 
And I again a child. 

The sun shone brightly on the mold 

Dark rippled by the plow. 
The lark from out his throat of gold 

Poured all his music now. 

The wood, the mead, the mellow hill, 
Wrapped in their dreamy haze. 

Sufficed again my heart to hll 
And bind my steady gaze. 

And bursting from the buried past. 
Bright scenes like tiow'rets bloomed ; 

Scenes all too beautiful to last. 
By memory entombed. 



Arul tluis from out that silen. grave 

My childhood rose anew. 
As fresh as when sweet heaven gave 

Its light and morning dew. 

And then I heard— or seemed to hear — 

Sweet voices of the blest, 
And thus they said : " Beyond this sphere 

The w.^arv shall find rest/' 



3E 



IN PASSING. 



I 



MET them walking side by side 

One pleasant autumn day: 
They bowed and smiled in joy and pride 
And onward went their way. 



I held within my hand a leaf 

Plucked from a maple tree; 
Its life was brief, but not so brief 

Will their sweet summer be. 

A little while have leaf and flower 

To live in sun and rain, 
And then, in some sad, hapless hour, 

They pass away again. 

But love, though human, knows no blight: 

No frost can nip its bloom; 
It brightest shines in darkest night 

And lives beyond the tomb. 

Dear ones, may love your care bsguile 

And light your earthly way; 
And may you ever bow and smile 

Just as vou did that day. 



COURAGE. 



Delivered in eoimertioii with tlio baerulauveate senii;>n hi^fore tlie i>ni!luatiug 
class of the Nebraska State Xonnal School. June 10, 1881). 



T 



HE world is bright to all who dure, 
And glorious to all who do, 

There comes an answer to the prayer 
Of all who to themselves are true. 



The hill that in the distance glooms 
On near approach to smile is found; 

Its verdure and its blest perfumes 
Are balm to every bleeding wound. 

The mine is barred to indolence, 
The dewy pearl hides in the sea, 

The "golden fleece" is found far hence, 
"Beyond the Alps lies Italy." 

No good e'er comes to idle dreams; 

To wish is but to wish in vain; 
The polished shaft of marble gleams 

Not for the stranger unto pain. 

All things of honest worth are bought 
By toil and patience, faith and love; 

Each step in life's great ladder wrought 
By which the soul may mount above. 

Oh, could I speak one word of cheer 
To those who languish in the strife; 

Oh, could I wipe away the tear 

And let them see their crown of life! 

Press on with courage true and bold; 

Press on with pulses beatmg high; 
The morning breaks her bars of gold! 

The sun in s^jlendor mounts the sky! 



28 




.X 5 -^ ifl 









OUR FALLEN HEROES. 

liead at the '-unknown .uvave," May ;',0. 18S0. 



G 



O to their graves and flowers strew 
-^ Over our heroes brave and true, 
^ Over the men who wore the bkie 
When mightv foes assailed us. 



How brave were they, how well they fought; 
They faced the musket's hissing shot; 
What honor to the land they brought; 
How much their lives availed us. 

What tender, farewell words they spoke; 
What tender, loving ties they broke, 
When from afar the battle smoke 
In darkness mantled o'er them! 

Forsaking ail the world holds dear, 
They dashed away the bitter tear. 
And met like men unknown to fear 
The enemy before them. 

Oh, how the cannons blazed and roared! 
Oh, how the bullets round them poured! 
How flashed the gleaming rebel sword! 
The soil how^ stained and gory ! 

How many a darling hero lay 
When night closed on the bloody fray. 
And rose not at the break of day 
To tell the wondrous story. 

And yet the story will be told 
In letters brighter far than gold 
As year by year shall be unrolled 
And time with man shall linger. 

To all they did in camp and field. 
To steadfastness that would not yield, 
To blood that all their honor sealed 
Will point the faithful finger. 



And of these soldiers 'twill be said 
When all are numbered with the dead, 
They to a higher level led 

The W'Orld in thought and action. 

They taught that all men should be free, 
And that the land from sea to sea 
Should one united country be, 
Devoid of strife and faction. 

They washed our robes in their rich blood. 
Securing that blest brotherhood. 
The dream of all the pure and good 
Along the hoary ages. 

They raised the land to fairer fame 
Than ever to the vision came 
In inspiration's lofty flame 

Of ancient seers and sages. 

To-day our flag without a stain 
In glory floats o'er land and main. 
And never shall a slave again 
In agony behold it. 

That flag unto our hearts how^ dear! 
Its field of stars how bright and clear! 
With loving hands we draw it near 
And to our bosoms fold it. 

'Twas for that flag these heroes died 
When traitors' hands that flag defied. 
And dangers threatened wild and wide 
And all was desolation. 

They sprang, as one, a mighty host; 
With God they marched from coast to coast; 
They stilled in death the rebel boast 
And saved our glorious Nation. 



32 



Then strew your garlands sweet to-day 
Where'er these slumbering heroes lay 
Mingling with mother-earth their clay, 
Your debt to them confessing. 

And while the flowers shall bud and bloom 
In loveliness and sweet perfume, 
So long our hearts shall give them room. 
And o'er them bre^he our blessing. 



THE LITTLE SHOE. 

A LITTLE worn-out baby shoe 
I see. I need not wonder who 
Has kept it thus — to whom so dear 
That oft it brings a pearly tear. 




That little shoe is now the key 

To many a golden memory. 

And many a hope sweet as the flower 

That blooms and dies within an hour. 

A worn-out bady shoe — ah, yes! 
But once a little foot did press 
Its open space, and O what bliss 
It was that little foot to kiss! 

The shoe upon the shelf I see; 
The worn-out shoe, but where is he 
Who wore it thus? O pearly gate 
Of heaven above, does he there wait? 

O tender hearts who love so well 
In memory and hope to dwell: 
To heaven look up and there behold 
Your darling in the Saviour's fold. 



33 



'TWILL MATTER LITTLE. 



^npWILL matter little by and by, 
I My friend, to you and me, 

•^ When sleeping 'neath the sod we lie 

So calm and peacefully. 
What was our earthly lot while here 

In this poor world of strife, 
We shall not sigh nor shed a tear, 

Nor sorrow o'er our life. 



'Twill be as though we ne'er had been, 

Forgotten and unknown ; 
Each burning thought and word and scene 

Away forever flown : 
Not one of all the race will heed 

Our monument or name ; 
Not one will stop to mark the deed 

That brought us wealth or fame. 

Of dust to dust — and this is all ; 

There is no room for i)ride ; 
As drops into the ocean fall 

And there forever hide. 
So perish men and pass away 

With all their pomp and power, 
Like fleeting moments of a day 

Or petals of a flower. 

Seek not the riches then of earth, 

But such as shall endure, 
The things of true and solid worth, 

The heavenly and pure ; 
Not those we leave behind us here 

To crumble 'neath the sod, 
But those we carry with us where 

The soul lives on with God. 



34 



DO YOU REGRET IT ? 



I 



F ever yoii spoke a word by the way, 
To one who was neariny: the dying of day, 
Forlorn and cast down, decrepit and gray, 
Do vou regret it ':* 



If ever you wiped a tear from the eye. 
Extracted a thorn, or banished a sigii ; 
Or brushed a dark cloud away from the sky, 
Do you regret it ? 

If ever you opened your jnirse to the poor. 
And drove the gaunt wolf away from the door, 
And happiness bro't to sad hearts once more. 
Do you regret it ? 

If ever in love you pardoned the sin, 
And throttled revenge that rankled within, 
And let the good angel of mercy come in. 
Do you regret it ? 

If ever to God you bowed low in prayer, 
And asked for His grace and truth to prepare 
For duty and trial and trust everywhere, 
Do you regret it ? 

If ever for God, His kingdom and right. 
You labored with zeal, and fought a good tight. 
Thus clearing the way for glory and light, 
Do you regret it ? 

If now you are near your heavenly rest, 
To be with the Lord and angels a guest, 
To reap from rich fields the purest and best, 
Do vou regret it ? 



35 



MARCH -WINDS. 



BLOW March- winds, blow hard as ye may, 
But blow up the spring of the year ; 
Blow frosts of old winter away 
And blow us sweet tokens of cheer. 

Blow from the spice-islands and seas, 
Blow fresh from the orange and pine ; 

Awake the long slumbering bees, 
Drape meadows in crystal and wine. 




Blow blossoms on limbs that are brown, 
And redden the cheeks that are pale ; 

Blow smiles into eyelids that frown 
And tears out of sorrow's deep vale. 

Blow open the door of the heart 
And let in the fragrance and light, 

Blow love into soul-wounds and smart 
And blow out the darkness of night. 

Blow March-winds, though mad be your race 
And rasping the sound of your voice ; 

Yet coming, I see a sweet face — 
O March-winds, I greatly rejoice ! 



36 



HOMESICKNESS. 

"Blessed are tlie homesick tor they shall get \umu-."— Heine. 



I AM homesick for my liome, 
Blessed Lord ; 
Waiting for thy greeting, " Come, 
Take beneath my shining dome 
Thy reward." 

I am longing for my rest 

Here below ; 
Like a bird with wounded breast, 
Robbed of all her brood and nest, 

Full of woe. 

Earth has lost to me her charms, 

Flowers dead ; 
Winds are full of rude alarms. 
Empty are my outstretched arms, 

Comforts fled. 

Thus I wait and sigh for thee, 

Boatman pale ; 
Waiting here beside the sea. 
Waiting ever longingly 

For thy sail. 

Come, O ship, and bear me o'er 

White sea foam. 
To the loved ones gone before. 
To that blessed happy shore. 

To my home. 

Still my soul is full of bliss 

Sorrow wrought ; 
Blessed, blessed homesickness, 
Joy o'erflowing fount is this, 

Dearly bought. 



37 



THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 



HOW good, O God, how good Thou art ! 
I'll praise Thy name for aye ; 
I'll love Thee, too, with all my heart, 
And serve Thee till I die. 

I cannot claim Thy precious love 

For anything I've done, 
And still it comes from heaven above 

Like beams of cloudless sun. 

Like flowers it greets my longing eyes ' 

In beauty everywhere ; 
It spreads o'er me like azure skies 

And breathes in fragrant air. 

On mountain-top, in valley low. 

On solid land and sea ; 
Where'er I am, where'er I go 

God's goodness follows me. 

His hand. His wing, His arm of power. 

Are o'er me and beneath ; 
I need not fear tho' tempests lower, 

Nor e'en the shades of death. 

His rod and staff, they comfort me 

When all is lost to sight — 
How sweet, how sweet God's child to be 

Whose love is infinite ! 

O Abba, Father, come and take 
And make my heart Thine own ; 

O for Thy boundless, sweet love's sake 
Firm bind me to Thy throne ! 



38 



WINTHROP'S COLONY. 



1630. 



LONG years ago an acorn blew 
Across the rollinof sea. 
And buried deep in soil so new. 
Prom out its little shell there grew 
A grand and stalwart tree. 

A stalwart tree, an English oak. 

Of fiber sound and strong. 
The mighty storms against it broke. 
It felt the lightning's fiery stroke 

Its spreading boughs among. 

It bled, indeed, but did not die, 

Its rugged sides were torn; 
Its leafy banners still on high 
It waved in triumph thro' the sky 

And hailed the rising morn. 

It sent its roots down deeper still, 
They grasped the heart of earth: 

And spreading forth they seemed to thrill. 

As tho' their mission was to fill 
The soil that gave them birth. 

Its trunk a forest was in one, 

Its branches smote the air: 
And ne'er did heaven's blazing sun 
Behold a tree since time begun 

So great, so strong, so fair. 

And iieath its ample shatle we meet 

In memory of the band, 
Who from the Old World launched their fleet. 
And touched with consecrated feet 

The New World's golden strand. 



;};» 



All honor to the fair and brave, 

Good Winthroji's colony; 
They thought not of the angry wave, 
They thought not of the lonely grave, 

Their goal was liberty. 

Then let him sneer whoever can, 

And let him laugh with scorn; 
How little recks the Puritan 
Who deemed a man was still a man 
Though in a stable born. 

Descendants of such sacred clay 

That rests the sea beside. 
In all the splendors of the day 
Above their dust our wreaths we lay 

And bow in humble jjride. 

And rising up let songs of praise 

To God be freely given; 
His ways are higher than our ways. 
His thoughts like stars above us blaze 

And lift our souls to heaven. 

'Twas God who led our fathers here, 

His winds their shallops blew, 
And on that coast, so wild and drear, 
With tawny savage glowering near, 
"Built wiser than they knew." 

They walked by faith — we walk by sight; 

Oh, how that sight we bless! 
And while we tread our paths of light 
Their torches shone against the night 

Deep on the wilderness. 

The wilderness now like the rose 

Unfolds in beauty rare; 
From where the blue St. Lawrence flows 
To where the yellow orange grows 

Sweet fragrance fills the air. 



40 



From where Atlantic's waves are stayed,. 
On to the " Golden Gate," 

The lines of Empire strong are laid 

In principles that do not fade, 
Eternal bonds of State. 

Let praise be given to God who led 

Our fathers o'er the sea, 
Who light upon their pathway shed,,. 
And in His love and wisdom sped 

The dav of libertv! 



"^^^ '^L^"- 



THE BEE KNOWS THE FLOWER. 



Written for a little girl's album. 



THE bee know^s the flower 
It loveth the best, 
The bird knows the bower 
Where it can find rest. 

And I know a girl 

As pure as the dew. 
With many a curl. 

And dark is their hue. 

So fair is her face. 

So mild is her eye. 
All beauty and grace, 

Around her do lie. 

This girl o'er my heart 

Has woven a spell; 
We never shall part 

I love her so well. 



41 




CENTENNIAL HYMN. 



A HUNDRED years have passed and gone, 
Beloved land of Washington, 
Since he — the noble, true and great- 
Commanded tirst the Ship of State; 
A hundred years of storm and shine, 
Upon the dark and heaving brine; 
A hundred years of onward sweep 
Against the giants of the deep. 

chorus: 

Beloved land of Washington — 
Child of the cloudless morning sun — 
Thy birth, thy glorious birth we sing; 
Accept, O God, our offering. 



42 



11. 

Thou land whsre freedom lights the way 
To pilgrims of a better day; 
A beacon to the nations where 
The soul is mantled with despair; 
A land where hope in beauty blooms 
Above a thousand mossy tombs; 
We lift our hearts to Him who gave 
This land unto the free and brave. 

111. 
O, land by all the patriot blood 
That stains the soil, that dyes the flood; 
O, land to thought and labor given 
The treasures of the highest heaven; 
Protected be thy hills and plains 
By Him who still in mercy reigns; 
Protected be thy flag unfurled, 
The ensign of a rising world. 



^r 



THE BLACKBIRDS' SONG. 



THE blackbirds' song so wild and free, 
A wanton storm of melody, 
It whirls through the air 
The death of all care; 
Of songs this is the song for me. 

Crisp is the April wind that sweeps; 
Under the sod the violet sleeps; 

But out of the throats 

Of these jetty-coats 
Oh, how the soul of gladness leaps. 

Oh, jolly birds, sing with a will, 
The grass is green on yonder hill, 

The bright skies are blue, 

A welcome to you — 
Ah, there they go, and all is still! 



43 



TENDER THINGS ARE FIRST TO DIE. 



TENDER things are first to die, 
Fairest things and sweetest; 
Golden moments quickly fly, 
Honied pleasures fleetest. 

Eyes of love are first to close, 

Leaving us in sorrow; 
Blushing petals of the rose 

Swept away to-morrow. 

Voices once we loved to hear, 

With the angels vieing, 
Hushed amid the darkness drear, 

Only winds are sighing. 

Silver cords are loosened soon, 
Golden bowls are broken; 

Harp-strings wailing out of tune. 
Idle words are spoken. 

Silken sails out on the sea. 

Sinking, ever sinking; 
Merry hearts once full of glee. 

Bitter tears are drinking. 

Lowly mounds beneath the snow. 
Precious dust lies sleeping; 

Shadows flitting to and fro, 
Stars their vigils keeping. 



44 




THE LIFE TO COME. 



OH, what will be that life to come 
Beyond this vale of tears 
To which, 'tis said, we pass full soon, 
Borne on the tide of years? 
What will it be? Oh, tell me pray, 
So that my fears may pass away. 

Oh, in that life which is to come 

Will there be pain, as now? 
Will hearts there ache as they do here, 

Will souls with burdens bow? 
Oh, would that I might know full well 
Ere to that land I go to dwell. 

Oh, in that life which is to come 

Will there be joy supreme. 
And on my path from day to day, 

Will light effulgent stream? 
Will flowers bloom with fragrance sweet, 
And all sweet things my senses greet? 

Oh, in that life which is to come 

Shall I then clasp the hands 
Of those I knew and loved so here? 

Shall I then join the bands 
Of free and happy souls above, 
Where all is bliss and all is love? 

And no more parting will there be 

In that sweet life to come? 
Will want and wand'ring ever end. 

And shall we dwell at home 
Within a Father's mansion grand. 
Protected by His loving hand? 



45 



Oh, soul! there comes a voice to thee 

Sounding the waters o'er, 
In love it says, in truth it says, 

"Thou shalt bear grief no more, 
And all thy tears be wiped away 
When in this land of cloudless day. 

"For in this land no graves are seen, 

No links are snapped in twain, 3 

And they that meet may love for aye i 

And never part again. 
No sickness, pain, or dying here. 
No blighted buds or leaflets sear." 

Oh, to that land, then, let me haste, 

Borne on the wings of time; 
I long to greet that happy land — 

That blest immortal clime — 
Where I shall hear the Savior say, 
"The former things are passed away." 

BY AND BY. 



HOW things grow old and fade and. die. 
To dust revolving back, 
And withered leaves of beauty lie 
Along our earthly track. 

Where are the friends that once we knew^ 
That once we knew and loved; 

The deep, sweet eyes we looked into 
And saw our love approved? 

Where sound their voices, if they pound 

As sweetly as of yore? 
Who would not search the world around 

To hear them speak once more? 



46 



Where is the music of their feet? 

We strain a listening ear 
That once again that music sweet 

We may enraptured hear. 

Forever gone! passed hence, they say, 

Beyond the reahn of time, 
Beyond Ufe's fleeting summer day, 

Beyond its hckle chine. 

And we must wait until we change, 

Until our hearts shall cease 
To beat their measures wild and strange, 

And dawns the morn of peace. 

And then, O hills of Paradise, 
With vales stretching between, 

What glorious visions greet our eyes! 
What joy and rapture keen! 

Behold, the flowers bloom again, 

The same that faded here, 
And from that verdant sunny plain 

Swell voices sweet and clear. 

They are the same, but glorified. 

The same, but sweeter still; 
The very same, though once they died — 

Our hearts with gladness fill! 

Then blossoms sweet ! fade if ye must, 

And tears come to our eye; 
'Tis " earth to earth, and dust to dust," 

But glory by and by. 




THE NEW YEAR. 



THE New Year comes — or rather we 
Do come to it — 
Behind, a new-made grave we see, 
And by it sit 
Fair mourners of departed hours 
Garlanded with dewless flowers. 



There they do sit and sigh and weep. 
And weep and sigh; 

While over them the sun-rays creep 
And vainly try 

To drive away the gloom of night 

And turn their darkness into light. 



Ijet them mourn — sacred is their woe, — 

For 'neath that mould 
Lie dearest things that they loved so; 

Fair locks of gold. 
Harp-strings and heart-strings and sweet eyes, 
And sunshine and flowers and blue skies. 



Their dead are there — buried there — 
There w^ould they stay — 

And though the New Year bourgeons fair 
With dewy ray, 

They fain would sit with bowed head 

And weep above their cherished dead. 

.O New Year bright, O New Year gay, 
Strew that dark ground 

With sweetest blossoms on your way; 
Let bloom around 

Flowers as beautiful as have been 

If you would have us smile again. 



48 



Cover that grave deep, deep with love; 

Let Heaven shine 
A flood from heights serene above — 

All that was mine 
Give back — give back — and only then 
Shall I be filled with joy again. 



THE SABBATH. 



HOW softly dawns the Sabbath day! 
Its very air is full of peace; 
A thousand voices seem to say: 
"Let earthly strife and tumult cease! 
Let all the world arise and pray ! " 

'Tis now a spirit seems to brood, 
More holy than at other times, 

O'er mountain, vale and templed wood, 
And joy-bells from the heavenly climes 

Ring down to earth an interlude. 



An interlude in life's great psalm 
That throbs in tempests and in t«ars; 

An interlude of healing balm 
To wounds of sorrow and of fears — 

'Mid storms an interlude of calm. 

This is a day of peace and rest, 
When burdens man may lay aside, 

And with his royal heavenly Guest, 
In joy the world gives not, abide. 

And feast on love supremely blest. 

Then unto Him who gave this day 
To woo our wandering souls to heaven, 

And bless us on our troubled way, 
Be grateful praise and homage given ; 

Let all the world arise and pray ! 




49 



THE SWEETEST SONG. 



NOT that of singer on the stage 
Who holds entranced the listening throng; 
Whose tones a heavenly heritage 
Reveal the spirit of the song. 

Nor that of flattering nightingale 

That in an ecstacy of bliss, 
Descending, fills the tranquil vale 

With golden waves of melodies. 

Nor that of poet though he sings 

Of seasons that are yet to be. 
And o'er the earth and heaven flings 

A spell of rhythmic harmony. 

None of these sweet singers sing 
The song of songs; no, no, not they; 

There is a height beyond their wing 

They can not touch though sweet their lay. 

The sweetest song has ne'er been sung 

By choral songster, bard, or bird; 
Nor can it e'er be lisped by tongue 

Nor by a listening ear be heard. 

A hidden, secret spring, it flows 

All pure and deep within the breast — 

Go ask the lover, for he knows 
The sweetest song, end he is blest. 




LITTLE BELLE. 



SOME things there are beneath the skies 
That fill our hearts with glad surprise, 
And make us feel that yet on earth, 
Treasures exist of wondrous worth. 

Some bird sings sweeter than the rest; 
Some breeze wafts fragrance from the west; 
Some gem reflects as pure a light 
As any jewel of the night. 

Some beauteous flowers their mates surpass; 
Some dewdrops pendant on the grass 
Beyond all others seem to hold 
And flash abroad ethereal gold. 

And thus art thou, dear little Belle: 
No flower so fair in mead or dell: 
No gem so pure; no star so bright 
In the broad diadem of night. 

Thy hair, the evening shades outvies : 
Thine eyes outrival summer skies ; 
Thy face, more fair than lilies white ; 
Thy smile, more sweet than morning's light. 

And in thy childhood's matchless grace 
All beauty dwells— a fitting place— 
Thine air is eloquence and ease, 
And all thy movements minstrelsies. 

May you e'er keep, my little maid 
Those rarer gifts that never fade, 
And while you tread life's darksome way 
Still scatter sunshine as you may. 



ni 



THE MAIDEN AND DEATH. 



Maiden. 

DEATH, why dost thou come to me 
Just in my youthful prime? 
I shudder at the sight of thee ; 
I die before my time. 

Death. 

O maiden fair, I come to thee, 

In all thy youthful prime, 
That thou maye.->t rise and go with me 

To heaven's sunnier clime. 

Maiden. 

O Death, this world is all too dear 

For me to leave it yet; 
To b'd farewell to pleasures here 

Will give me sad regret. 

Death. 

O maiden fair, this world that seems 

So dear unto your heart. 
Is made of unsubstantial dreams; 

'Twere better to depart. 

Maiden. 

O Death, in death will my love die? 

Will all grow dark and cold? 
Will all my being sleeping lie 

Beneath the church- yard mold? 

Death. 

O maiden fair, life blooms in death, 

And love that never dies 
Will come with thy expiring breath 

And waft thee to the skies. 



52 



Maiden. 

Death, then take me by the hand, 
The morning tapers glow; 

1 see heaven's shining table-land, 
I long with thee to go. 



=JE 



A MOTHER'S FINAL REST. 



DEAR mother rest from all your care; 
Sleep now, your loving work is done ; 
No more that look of trouble wear, 
But wear the crown that thou hast won. 

Now let thy heart, that ever beat 
Responsive to thy children's call. 

Be filled with heavenly pulses sweet 
That from the angel chorus fall. 

And let thy hands that knew no rest, 
From sun to sun through many years. 

Lie still upon thy peaceful breast 
Nor wipe again the fount of tears. 

And weary feet that walked so long 
The rugged way that mothers tread. 

Go walk those heavenly paths among 
Where faithful souls are comforted. 

O mother, angel in disguise, 
Thy garment thou hast laid aside 

And oped the gate of Paradise, 
Through love and labor glorified ! 



."xJ 



^^1 

^^^'^r^^^ 



YESTERDAY. 



A DEWY morn, fragrant and sweet 
With newly blossomed flowers ; 
A rosy path to bounding feet 
Leading where glory towers ; 
A heart with strong and steady beat 
Spurning the lagging hours ; 
But that was yesterday. 

Clasped in a true and fond embrace 
And loved with tend'rest love, 

With kisses raining on my face 
Like drops from clouds above ; 

Heaven finding on earth a place 
Like Noah's weary dove ; 
But that was yesterday. 

Believing all is pure and good. 

In simple trust beguiled ; 
The world's deceit misunderstood 

And windings dark and wild, 
In which there tread the multitude 

Of souls with guilt defiled ; 
But that was yesterday. 

Thinking this world can surely bring 

All joy and happiness ; 
Around one's soul a garment fling, 

A garment sweet of bliss ; 
That one might here forever sing 

The song of love and peace ; 
But that was yesterday. 



54 



So now I wonder when will come 
The summons from on high, 

That I at last shall be at home 
Beyond the starry sky, 

And in the heavenly sunlit dome 
I shall no longer sigh 

"But that was vesterdav !" 



DESERTED. 

ONCE a garden blooming fair, 
Now a desert wild and bare; 
Every fragrant bud is gone 
That I fondly called my own. 

Dewy eyes and cherry lips. 
Rosy cheeks and finger-tips, 
Cherub limbs and dainty feet, 
O, my darlings, you were sweet ! 

Once you answered to my call, 
To my breast I clasped you all, 
Bore you on my loving heart ; 
Of my life you were a part. 

Now 'tis silent everywhere ; 
Silent is the hall and stair ; 
Silent door, and silent gate ; 
Silent all and desolate. 

O, my flowers, my angels dear; 
O, my harps, my founts of cheer; 
O, my stars, my rays of bliss; 
O, the joys that now I miss. 

Hope, thou anchor of the soul. 
Stay me now while billows roll; 
Thou art all that's left to me — 
Only thou and memory. 



THIS LIFE A DREAM. 



DOES not this life seem like a dream, 
A phantasy unreal ? 
And that which mingles in its stream 
Does not it seem ideal ? 

It comes and goes and what have we i 

More than a transient vision ? 
A rainbow arch upon the sea ? 

A pulse of joy elysian ? 

We spread our arms, but clasp the air ; 

We call, but nothing greets us ; 
We seek for treasures everywhere, 

But naught enduring meets us. 

The dewdrops vanish with the rose ; 

Bright pearls, oh how we love them ! 
While bird-songs with the evening close 

And stars smile out above them. 

And though we see the rose again 

Bedecked in dewy splendor ; 
And hear once more the birds' refrain 

However sweet and tender. 

They are not, can not be the same ; 

At least they do not seem so; 
As when they first in beauty came 

And made us sigh and dream so. 

And thus we paint this life a dream 

With bubbles ever breaking ; 
Oh, when will dawn the ruddy gleam 

Of morn, our souls awaking ! 



56 



THE HUMBLE POET. 



THEY may sneer at the humble poet 
As the ocean sneers at the dew 
That sliines on the verdant meadow 
Under the sky so blue; 
But the dew with its golden sunbeams 

Will smile at the breaking of day, 
And ■ he heart of the humble poet 
Will beat to the time of its lay. 

The lion may roar in the forest 

And gaze with an angry frown. 
And tread with his ruthless footsteps 

The tender violet down, 
But the birds in the swaying tree-tops, 

Will feel no quakings of fear, 
And sing to the bleeding violet 

A melodious song of cheer. 

Sing on then humblest of poets. 

Fond hearts are open to you 
As thirsty the beautiful flowers 

Fling ojjen their hearts to the dew; 
Sing on for many are weary, 

With care and sorrow oppressed: 
Some note may give balm for their healing 

And lull the worn spirit to rest. 



MURMURING. 



M 



URMUR, murmur and complain, 
Wailing forth a sad refrain 
From the rising of the sun 
Till its joyous course is run; 
Mingling with the dews that fall 
Tears more bitter far than gall. 

Thus it is our years are spent 
In our mournful discontent; 
Seeing only thorns and stones^ 
Hearing only sighs and groans; 
Walking in the valley where 
Winds the river of despair. 

Sad, indeed, if it were true 
Not a flower of radiant hue, 
Full of gladness and of cheer. 
Bloomed to make us happy here; 
Sad, if all the cups we drain 
Sorrow pressed from grapes of pain. 

But when by the piercing thorn 
Blushes in the radiant morn 
Such a miracle of grace 
With a smile upon its face. 
Seems to me we should forget 
Little piercings of regret. 

And, though clouds at times are dark, 
Stones our rugged pathway mark; 
Yet, the skies are blue anon; 
Soft the ground we walk upon; 
Sweet our cup with heaven's wine, 
Thrilling us with joy divine. 

So let's sing a cheerier song; 

Let not sorrow tarry long; 

Plant bright hope within the breast. 

Trusting all that is, is best; 

Spread our wings and rise on high — 

Night is passing — morn is nigh. 



58 







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60 



TO THE STUDENTS OF '' OLD SANDSTONE." 



Read at tlie reunion of the old students of Hock River Seminary. :Mt. Morris, 
111., June 30, 188G. 



DEAR students of the olden time! 
With ties yet binding heart to heart, 
A few more words before we part 
And I will weave them into rhyme. 

And as I take my harp in hand 

And run my fingers o'er the strings, 
How many thoughts my memory brings 

Out of the past so sweet and grand. 

Within my heart they rise and swell 
Like music on the midnight air. 
Or chanting of some minstrels where 

The Lord's redeemed children dwell. 

How shall I sing when sung unto 

By seraph voices sweet and clear. 
And when those voices float so near. 

My spirit thrilling through and through I 

My hand falls nerveless by my side; 
There is a dreamy mist of tears 
Along the shore of golden years; 

I hear the dashing of the tide 

As hither on the shore it rolls. 

The shore of time, from shoreless sea 
Of vast and dim eternity; 

I greet a band of kindred souls! 

The sun ascends, the mist is gone; 

With gladness now I strike my lyre, 
And all its strings with triumph fire; 

The past and future both are one. 



61 



What though a host since last we met 

Have pierced the veil that hangs between 
The things we see and the unseen ; 

What though their earthly sun is set! 

What though their silent grass-grown tombs 
Contain the precious dust we loved, 
That once among us smiled and moved! 

They've onward passed to higher rooms. 

We need not weep for them, ah no! 

We need not deem them ever lost; 

They've only life's dark Jordan crossed 
To plains with sunlight all aglow. 

And by and by we'll meet them there 
Within our Father's house on high, 
Where none e'er weep and none e'er sigh, 

And none are mantled round with care. 

And what if we have lost the grace 

That once we had, when in these walls 
Our footsteps echoed through their halls, 

The curved outline of form and face! 

And what if silver's mixed with gold, 

Or all is silver — sorer lot: 

Unthatched and bare, the dome of thought! 
What of the fact we're growing old! 

There is no age to him whose breast 
Is but a hive of brotherhood. 
Whose every thought is pure and good; 

Of heaven he is a constant guest. 

He grows not old, but ever young, 
And as the body breaks away 
His soul is rising toward the day 

Whose morning light is o'er him flung. 



62 



And now my comrades, good and true, 

I know you've fought your battles well 
As saber-scars so truly tell; 

A laurel crown I wreathe for you. 

A crown of laurel, glory's wreath, 

Fit for each broad and noble brow, 
That you may take upon you now 

And wear beyond the gates of death. 

Beyond the gates and up the steeps. 
Whose lofty sun-lit summits pierce 
The zenith of the universe, 

Where God eternal vigil keeps. 

Yet while you live be stanch and brave! 
Throw out a helping, guiding force 
To all along your earthly course; 

A stricken world redeem and save! 

And when you die, die in the right: 
Die in the joy of him who sees 
His banner floating to the breeze 

Resplendent in the rising light! 

The tide recedes, my song is o'er; 
My quivering harp I lay aside 
With other treasures to abide — 

Shall it be silent evermore? 




63 



NATURE. 



W 



HAT a lover nature is! 

Before all others choose her; 
In her arms is sweetest bliss, 
Most happy he who woos her. 



Mighty M^ealth is hers to give, 
And surely she'll bestow it; 

With her constantly to live, 
Makes one a royal poet. 

Bright and smiling is her face 

When breaks the summer morning; 

O, what loveliness and grace 
Her woods and vales adorning! 

Fragrant are the robes she wears, 
A thousand charms revealing; 

Light of sun and golden stars 
Enraptured glances stealing. 

Silvery is her gentle voice 

To all who truly love her; 
Making her their dearest choice, 

And in her bosom hover. 

Bears them on her loving breast 
Till death their spirits sever; 

Gives their weary bodies rest 
Forever and forever. 



4 



G4 



THE BEAUTIFUL. 



THE world is full of beauty; 
It greets our happy eyes 
Where'er we turn our vision 
In earth, or air, or skies. 

It glitters in the sunlight, 

It dances o'er the sea; 
It blazes in the opal, 

It blushes on the lea. 

It glows in clouds at sunset. 
It breaks with dawning day; 

It sleeps within the rosebud, 
It veils itself in spray. 

'Tis in the eye of woman 

Whatever be its hue. 
It dwells there in its glory. 

So sweetly, pure and true. 

'Tis seen in noble action. 
By noble men expressed. 

When in the path of duty 
Their manhood is confessed. 

'Tis everywhere, but chiefly 
Within tlie loving heart 

That feels for human sorrow 
AVhen bitter tear-drops start. 

Such beauty is not earthly, 
But born from realms above. 

Where dwell the holy angels 
All beautiful in love. 

And each may till witli beauty 
His pathway to the skies. 

And shed a glow of sunshine 
To gladden other eyes. 



(".5 



MY FRIEND. 



HE sees the good there is in me, 
My virtues magnifies; 
Beneath the garb of charity 
My faults to hide he tries. 

He looks not on the deed alone 
In reading what was meant, 

But runs each secret channel down 
To find the true intent. 

Reports, however fraught with ill, 
Malicious tongues may spread. 

Disturb him not, but loyal still 
His soul to mine is wed. 

He smiles in joy at my success, 

As though it were his own; 
A stranger he to enviousness 

Should I ascend a throne. 

All of my pains and griefs are his. 

Each fetter and each foe; 
Upon him are my miseries. 

The mantle of my woe. 

Wherever I go he goes with me. 

My home is his abode; 
No power can shake that constancy 

On me he has bestowed. 

O friend! O fond, true-hearted friend! 

A light thou art to me; 
Be with me till this life shall end 

And through eternity. 



66 



SEEK NOT TO WOUND. 



SEEK not to wound thy fellow man 
Who walks life's thorny path with thee; 
Pursue some higher inotive than 
To rend his heart with misery. 

For that poor heart within his breast 
Beats with its share of sorrow too; 

His weary spirit seeking rest 
Should not be made to bleed anew. 

Like thine, his brow of care and thought 
Has throbbed and reeled with bursting pain; 

And surely thou hast ne'er been taught 
To make that temple throb again. 

To add one feather to the w^eight 

Of any mortal's burden here 
Will bring to thee a darker fate, 

To thee a sad, repentant tear. 

The merciful are blessed of heaven, 

And they sweet mercy shall receive; 
Unto the loving peace is given, 
. And they with God at last shall live. 

Oh, then, let fall each poisoned dart. 
Turn from each vengeful path away; 

Let Him be judge who knows the heart, 
And for thy sins forgiveness pray. 



67 



PITY THE POOR. 



WHITE lies the snow o'er all the earth, 
The wind moans round my door; 
And sitting by my cheerful hearth 
I'm thinking of the poor. 

How fares it with them at this hour 

While winter reigns supreme, 
And icy monarchs wield their power 

O'er forest, lake, and stream? 

What shields them from the piercing cold 

Of winter's frozen breath? 
What refuge from these warriors bold 

That hurl their darts of death? 

How cheerless on a night like this 

Must be a tireless grate, 
As thro' the cracks the fierce winds hiss 

So drear and desolate! 

The fur-clad beasts find a retreat 

In cave or woody den, 
And care not for these storms that beat 

And shake the huts of men. 

The little birds with winged flight. 

Seek in a southern clime 
A sunny home with flowers bright, 

And sing the f»assing time. 

Are these poor children of the wood 

More dear to God than man, 
A bemg less than angelhood 

But by a little span? 



G8 






God cares for all His children here, 

Enough for all has given, 
So that from hunger, want and fear 

Earth might be made a heaven. 

O, ye whom God with wealth has blessed, 

Whose cup is running o'er, 
Remember those with want oppressed. 

The starving, freezing poor! 



DREAM-LAND. 



I HEARD one singing in a dream 
An old, familiar song; 
'Twas like the murmur of a stream 
Its golden rocks among. 

The voice I knew, and form and face, 

And touch of sounding keys; 
The place became a heavenly jjlace 

Of wondrous melodies. 

There was no breath of noisy air 

To break the sweet refrain; 
Such harmony, such peace was there, 

It held me like a chain. 

'Twas bliss, but bliss with sadness tinged; 

It hushed all tickle mirth; 
The light with shadows soft was fringed, 

'Twas surely not of earth. 

I woke, I woke to earth again; 

The light around me streamed; 
And still I heard the sweet refrain 

That blessed me while I dreamed. 



69 



L 



LOVE. 

OVE'S the same in every clime, 
Realm and nation, tribe and time. 



And its sameness lies in this 
That it giveth pain and bliss. 

Pain that's bliss and bliss that's pain, 
Mingling both like drops of rain. 

Morn that's night and night that's morn, 
Both a flower and a thorn. 

Sweet and bitter, bitter-sw'eet. 
Line where joy and sorrow meet. 

THE ALBUM aUILT. 



CUT in blocks and shapes of stars, 
Ribbed across with golden bars. 
Like the sky at set of sun, 
When the weary day is done. 

Soft to touch and soft to sight. 
Like a lily in the light; 
Like a lily in a dream 
Floating on a silver stream. 

Stitched with silken threads of gold; 
Through and through and fold on fold; 
Through and through with love and light, 
Through a tear-drop dewy bright. 

Woven names of those I love. 
Stars will sooner fade above: 
Golden threads may turn to gray. 
Those within will live alway. 



70 



Bordered round and hemmed fast, 
Like a fabric of the past 
None can ravel, none can break, 
Howe'er much the heart may ache. 

Fold me 'round and I shall sleep. 
Sweetly dream and never weep; 
Dream of those whose names are there, 
And breathe for each a fervent prayer. 



-^*-<- 



SONG. 



LONG I've waited for thee, dear! 
Through the night my vigil kept; 
Trembling oft in doubt and fear 
Weary waiting I have wept. 

Spring has come and flowers, too. 
Birds their nests have built again; 

Can a promise that is true 
Be a ministrant of pain? 

Whisper now the winds that pass. 
Bending low the ripened wheat; 

On the dew^-bespangled grass 
Somewhere press her rosy feet. 

Stars that w^ait the coming day 

In an ecstacy rejoice; 
Somewhere on their shining way 

They have listened to her voice. 

Somewhere— yes! she still must be! 

Morning's light is proof of this; 
While she is the world to me 

Weary waiting still is bliss. 



71 



KIND WORDS. 



KIND words ye did come like the showers 
That fall o'er the woodland and lea, 
Refreshing the grass and the flowers; 
Ye brought sweetest comfort to me. 

No bee ever found such a treasure 
In blossoming meadows of spring. 

No bird ever found such a measure 
Of light for its jubilant wing. 

No echoing horn 'mid the mountains 
When day is fast sinking to rest; 

No vision of bright flowing fountains 
Were sweeter than these to my breast. 

The roses that bloom in the morning 
In beauty, must wither and die; 

E'en stars in their glory adorning 
Night's curtain, must fade from the sky. 

But words, loving words, are immortal. 
They can not go out with the breath, 

But beaming from heaven's bright portal 
They light up the valley of death. 

Then scatter them freely about you, 

The world will be happier then; 
Fond hearts will be lonely without you. 

And joy at your coming again. 



72 




SHERIDAN. 



FAREWELL to the gallant and brave. 
No more we rejoicing behold him; 
Let flowers be strewn o'er his grave 
And the flag of his country enfold him. 

He passed like a star from the sky 
That ever shone forth in its splendor; 

We gaze with a tear-blinded eye 

As we think of our gallant defender. 

He is gone, but his spirit still lives; 

His deeds, like his soul, are immortal; 
He is gone to the Father who gives 

Admission to heaven's bright portal. 

And there his old comrades rejoice. 
While here we so sadly deplore him: 

How gladly they list to that voice 

That vanquished the rebel before him! 

Then weep for the gallant and brave. 
No more we rejoicing behold him; 

So long as our banner shall wave 
In love we will fondly enfold him. 



MOVE FORWARD. 



[When Mr. Moody eanie u])on tlie stage at the opera house in Council Bluffs 
to begin his services he commanded those seated there to "move forward!" and 
there was a spontaneous movement to the front.] 



M' 



OVE forward! all along the line; 
Move forward! light begins to shine; 
The sun of truth and victory 
Rises in all his majesty. 



Move forward! men and women strong, 
Ye w'ho have prayed and labored long; 
The time has come for you to rise 
For lo, the sun rolls up the skies. 

Move forward! each and every one, 
The golden harvest is begun; 
Ye reapers! rise from glen and glade 
And wield the sickle's giit'ring blade. 

Move forward! reaping as ye move! 
Angels are watching from above; 
Around are witnesses a host; 
Arouse ye now" and save the lost! 

Move forward! Day will die full soon, 
How quickly evening follows noon! 
Now" is the time to work and pray-- 
Let glory crown the dying day. 



"THE BRIDGE." 



[At the closing exercises of the Institute for the Deaf and Dumb, Miss Ollie 
Tracy recited most eloquently and gracefully, in the sijrn language, Longfellow's 
matchless poem, "The Bridge.'"] 

DEAR maid, like some bright flower in morn 
Bedecked with sparkling dew 
The lap of summer to adorn 
With every radiant hue. 
If rarest gift of song were mine 
Its sweetest strains should all be thine. 

And is it true thou cans't not speak, 

That silent thou must be 
Until the angel death shall break 

Thy bond and set thee free; 
That all thy songs must be unsung 
Till heaven's gat^s are open flung! 

Ah, no! thou singest unto the eye; 

Yea more, unto the heart; 
Thou smgest as stars within the sky; 

Thou singest with heavenly art; 
Thy song the soul alone can hear; 
, Too pure, too sweet for mortal ear. 

And thou art standing on "the bridge" 

Midway 'tween earth and heaven; 
Afar upon the silver ridge 

Where all is fair, where clouds are riven: 
Beneath thee rolls life's turbid stream; 
Beyond thee lights of heaven gleam. 



75 



THE LOVE OF GOD. 



H 



APPY the man within whose breast 
The love of God is shining ; 
And charity a constant guest 
His every wish retining. 



However dark the sky may lower 
Or bright the lightning's flashing, 

He stands unawed before their jjower, 
Undaunted "mid their clashing. 

This love imparts a calm content, 

A spirit meek and lowly ; 
A trust secure from heaven sent 

At once serene and holy. 

It lifts the mind to purest thought. 
The grandest truth conceiving ; 

Conducts to fields with riches fraught, 
The low and barren leaving. 

It prompts to deeds of sacrifice. 
The helpless one befriending ; 

And by untiring effort tries 
To bring him good unending. 

It conquers sin wherever found, 

Chiefly in one's own spirit ; 
And mounts to heaven round by round 

The Kingdom to inherit. 

Then ope thy door my brother true 
And take this gift so glorious, 

'Twill fill thy soul with blessings new 
And bring thee off victorious. 



7G 



THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER'S GRAVE. 



UPON the bloody tield he fell, 
His breast bared to the foe ; 
But who he was we can not tell, 
His name we do not know. 

And yet we know for us he fought. 

For God and liberty. 
And with his priceless blood he bought 

Man's title to be free. 

We know within his breast there beat 

A patriotic tide, 
And to the union song his feet 

Kept time until he died. 

And though we may not know his name, 
The soldier 'neath this sod : 

Above 'tis writ in deathless flame, 
His name is known to God. 

His name and deeds are known on high 

Among the angel host ; 
Of those who for their country die 

No name is ever lost. 

Go, then, with reverential tread. 
With garlands rare of flowers, 

And place them o'er the sleeping dead. 
This hero brave of ours. 

And with the flowers let fall a tear, 

Affection's deed to crown, 
For him who slumbers sweetly here 

Within this grave, unknown. 



77 



NOT IN VAIN. 



IT is not in vain that you smile 
Thro' the tempests and darkness of Hfe, 
Some burden 'twill lighten the while 
And strengthen some soul for the strife. 

It is not in vain that you speak 

In love and in cheer unto all, 
For many are weary and weak, 

And many are ready to fall. 

It is not in vain that you stand, 
A light by the treacherous sea — 

In dread of the surf-beaten strand 
How many are looking to thee! 

It is not in vain that you sow 
Good seed on the generous soil^ 

For richest of harvests will grow, 
A reward for your arduous toil. 

It is not in vain that you tread 

In paths that are rugged and steep, 

For glory encircles your head. 

And angels their night-vigils keep. 

It is not in vain that you pray. 
For the God above you who hears 

Will open the portals of day, 

And banish the mist of your tears. 



78 




THE OLDER I GROW. 



Ml: 



ORE beauty in nature is there for me, 

the green wood and the blue roHing sea, 
flowers of summer and winter's white snow, 
The older I grow. 



Still dearer the sight of children at play, 
While from my window I watch them each day 
Gleefully glancing like birds to and fro. 
The older I grow. 

The song of the lark more musical seems; 
More sweet the refrain of clear running streams 
•As onward to greet the ocean they flow. 
The older I grow. 

More love in my heart for mankind I feel, 
More joy in the good that works for th^ir weal, 
More grief for the ill that brings to them woe, 
The older I grow. 

For others more of a desire have I 
To live, than for self, as the years circle by; 
That others may reap I gladlier sow 
The older I grow. 

And nearer the heavenly land do I tread 
Day after day by the Good Shepherd led; 
Home, rest and glory are nearer I know. 
The older I grow. 



7:1 



ONE BY ONE. 







I. 

CLOUD. 



NE by one the moments slip 

Like pearls from a broken string; 
Chilly rains of autumn drip 
O'er the russet grave of spring. 



One by one the ships go down 

Out on the boisterous sea; 
Wet winds waft a plaintive moan 

And sigh through the leafless tree. 

OnQ by one our friends depart, 
And the last farewell is said; 

With a weary, aching heart 

To the same unknown we tread. 

II. 

SUNSHINE. 

One by one the stones are laid 

In the tall cathedral spire; 
Deeds of kindness do not fade. 

They shine with celestial fire. 

One by one glad steps we take 
To our home in realms above; 

Then, oh! then, will hearts that ache 
Be healed with infinite love. 

One by one, though joys decay. 
And the flowers of beauty fall. 

Heaven w'ill give them back some day, 
And God will care for us all. 



80 



THE DYING YEAR. 



ANOTHER year is nearly gone, 
A few days more 
And 'twill have to that region flown 
That mystic shore 
By mortals styled the "dim unknown." 

We can not bid the dying year 

A last farewell 
Without some M'ord, or even tear, 

Our grief to tell; 
Now that the end is drawing near. 

For it has been so good and true, 

And loved us so, 
With all our faults, and tender grew 

Amid our woe 
As though it all our sorrow knew. 

How rapidly it circled by 

On ether wings, 
And brought us from its argosy 

The richest things; 
Old year, we weep to see thee die. 

And weep we that our spirits should 

Have e'er complained, 
Or murmured at thy attitude 

When we were pained; 
'Twas but intended for our good. 

And now, old year, let us be friends 

Ere we do part; 
For all our faults we make amends 

With contrite heart: 
Forgive us ere thy journey ends. 



SI 



Forgive— oh, let the sinful past 

Be blotted out; 
Into thy grave let wrong be cast 

-And cruel doubt; 
But let the good forever last. 

Dying, thou shalt forever live 

With other years; 
For thee we will a garland weave 

Amid our tears; 
Old year, adieu— we will not grieve. 



I LOVE YOU, DEAR. 



u 



I 



LOVE you, dear!" and saying this, 

My heart responds, "Tis true! 'tis true!" 
And thrills with more than earthly bliss 
While still I say, "I love but you!" 



Why should I love you, dear? you ask. 
As though true love could reason why; 

If love could think 'twould be a task 
For me to love, and love would die. 

I love you just because I do, 
The key I do not care to find. 

For fear the strands would break in two 
That me a willing captive bind. 

The fact is all I want to know, 

i will not grieve while that is given; 

To lose my love would be my woe; 
To keep it as it is, is heaven ! 




.S2 



THE INVALID. 



SHE lies within her quiet room, 
Upon her couch so white; 
The air is languid witli perfume 
And mellow is the light. 

Pale are her cheeks and forehead fair, 
And large her beauteous eyes. 

And peace, sweet peace, is mirrored tliere, 
Like that of Paradise. 

She seems reclining by some sea, 

And looking far away 
On summers that are yet to be. 

Forgetful of to-day. 

Forgetful of the rosy hours 

That bloomed around her here; 

She drops them all like withered flowers, 
But drops no bitter tear. 

From God to her sweet whisperings, 
Like zephyrs soft, have corns; 

She hears the sweep of golden wings 
And feels the breath of home. 

With His assuring smile there stands 

The Savior by her bed, 
And o'er her spreads His loving hands 

And says, "Be comforted!" 

From her we learn the i)recious worth 

Of yielding to God's will, 
And howe'er sweet the joys of earth, 

There's something sweeter still. 

And by her holy ministry 

To us is truly given 
Some higher views of life to see, 

Some glimpses, bright, of heaven. 

And from our hearts we fondly bless 

Her pure, ethereal ray. 
And in its melting loveliness 

We wait the coming day. 



83 



A CHRISTMAS HYMN. 



OUR loving hearts, O SaA'ior, dear, 
We bring Thee on this Christmas morn, 
And close to Thee would now draw near 
And bless the day when Thou wast born. 
Oh. smile, dear Savior, on us now 
As at Thy feet we humbly bow ! 

11. 

Our songs, our sweetest songs, to Thee 
O King of Kings, we now would raise. 

And fill the air with melody 

And hymn Thy ever glorious praise. 

Oh, smile, dear Savior, on us now 

As at Thy feet we humbly bow! 

III. 

Our lives we now would yield to Thee, 
Thy cross would bear. Thy will obey, 

And serve Thee ever loyally 
Until our lives shall pass away. 

Oh, smile, dear Savior, on us now 

As at Thy feet we humbly bow! 

IV. 

Our hand we put within Thine own. 
Our hand of faith. Thy hand of love; 

Oh. leave us not to walk alone. 
But guide us to our home above. 

Oh, smile, dear Savior, on us now. 

As at Thy feet we humbly bow! 



81 



« 



TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. 



I 



^ 0-DAY we meet, to-morrow part — 
'Tis thus this life of ours fiows on 
Until death stills the throbbing heart 
And life is gone. 



To-day we hear a ringing voice 

That falls like music on the ear; 
The very woods with us rejoice 
And all is cheer. 

To-morrow all is deathly still, 

That pleasant voice no more is heard 
The only sound some murmuring rill 
Or lonely bird. 

To-day we clasjj a human hand — 

A brother's hand so warm and true — 
The sunshine silvers all the land, 
The skies are blue. 

To-morrow that dear hand is cold; 

Dark, dripping clouds are all abroad; 
The tale of life again is told: 
"Under the sod." 

Thus will it be till life is done. 

And each has run his little race; 
Until the light of heaven's sun 
Falls on his face. 

HAVE HOPE. 



A 



H, soldiers in life's din and battle! 
Ah, comrades in life's bloody fray! 
So weary of turmoil and rattle! 
So soiled by the dust of the way! 



85 



Ye long for the strife to be ended, 

Ye pray for the day to appear 
When glory and peace shall be blended, 

And gone the grim phantoms of fear. 

Have hope, for the time is swift winging; 

Have hope, for the bridegroom and bride 
Are coming with timbrel and singing, 

And joy shall be rolling a tide. 

A little more waiting and weeping, 
A little more watching and prayer — 

Comrades! the day-dawn is creeping 
And triumph is stirring the air. 



^^ 



UNSELFISHNESS. 



FOR others live if you would make 
Your own life full of peace while here; 
Give balm to wounded hearts that ache 
And broken spirits kindly cheer. 

For every good and worthy deed 

Will prove to thee a heavenly dower, 

And each kind thought and word a seed 
Of golden fruit or fragrant flower. 

Then give your heart to others' woes, 
Your hand to others' w^ants address. 

And taste the joy of him who knows 
The pathway of unselfishness. 

The rose that opens wide its breast, 
Receives the sunshine and the dew, 

The soul that gives is truly blest 
And shines in heavenly beauty, too. 



86 



THE RUSTLING OF THE CORN. 



THE August sun— the August sky — 
Broad fields of golden grain all shorn- 
And while these pictures till my eye 
I hear the rustling of the corn. 

The sound I love — 'tis music sweet. 
Pathetic, weird somewhat, as though 

The souls of days I once did greet 
Were flitting softly to and fro. 

Somehow it whispers to my heart, 
Its meaning I can scarcely guess; 

I only know the tear-drops start. 
And thoughts too deep for utterance press. 

It seems to be in sympathy 

With all my spirit's secret springs; 

With that no mortal eye can see. 
And to me sweetest comfort brings. 

And does dumb Nature understand 
The mysteries of the human soul? 

And hath she power to command 
And still the waves that o'er us roll? 

I know her voice is low and sweet, 
A mother's voice to her first-born ; 

I feel her near me while I greet 
The soft, low rustling of the corn. 



87 



HIDE ME. 



HIDE me under the shadow of Thy wings, 
O Lord, my God ; 
Hide me from the poisoned arrow that stings, 
And the fierce rod. 

Hide me from the dreadful temjjests that rise 

Over my path ; 
When dark are the waves and dark are the skies 

In awful wrath. 

Hide me when the subtle tempter is near 

In bright array; 
Help me his blandishments and smiles to fear. 

And flowery way. 

Hide me when Satan barters for my soul 

With wealth or fame, 
Help me to flee far from the fatal goal 

Whose crown is shame. 

Hide me from the false and deceitful tongue, 

That lieth low 
Like a serpent the winding paths among, 

Where'er I go. 

Hide me from jealousy, malice, and hate; 

Lift me above; 
Above the stones, the thorns, the desolate, 

To light and love. 

And when at last the hour of death draws nigh. 

And break's life's cord; 
O, keep me as the apple of Thine eye, 

Then hide me. Lord. 



w 



SONG. 



HEN shall I hear thy voice again 
Fall sweetly by the summer-sea? 

When will its soft and melting strain 
Bring joy and rest to me? 



I weary of the world's rude sounds; 

I tire of its discordant blare; 
Its jarring noise my spirit wounds 

And drives me to despair. 

From the fierce turmoil of this life; 

From carking care and bitter grief; 
From all the warfare and the strife, 

I seek a sure relief. 

But whither, whither shall I turn 
To find the rest for which I sigh? 

In silent sadness must I yearn 
And gaze with tear-dimmed eye? 

In vain I search the world's dull round; 

Its luring phantoms quick depart; 
In all its wealth I have not found 

True solace for my heart. 

O, let me hear thy voice again 
Fall sweetly by the summer-sea; 

O, let its soft and melting strain 
Bring joy and peace to me I 



S!) 



THE ESKIMO'S LOVE SONG. 



IN ripples like the northern sea 
That gently laps its crystal shore; 
Or like the far-off melody 
Of years the world shall see no more, 
So comes thy song, fair Eskimo, 
In melting cadence soft and low. 

What spirit taught thee how to sing 

In that drear land where winter reigns^ 

Who gave thy soul its pulsing wing 
To heavenward rise in liquid strains? 

Who breathed within thy throbbing breast 

The inspiration of the blest? 

Upon thy fields no fiower grows, 

No meadow spreads its wealth abroad; 

Adown thy vales no brooklet flows. 
No robin hymns its praise to God; 

Where didst thou get thy golden lyre 

That trembles with its hidden fire? 

I know thy secret, Greenland maid: 
Cold be thy home, thy heart is warm; 

There grow the flowers that never fade; 
There lies the dear eternal charm — 

Where hope ne'er blooms there is no spot, 

There is no land where love is not. 




90 




PAUL. 



PAUL. 



NOT Paul the saint, nor Paul Revere, 
But Paul the cherub, have we here; 
Sweet boy! no rose so sweet, so fair; 
No jewel can with him compare. 

He comes an angel from the skies, 
Fresh with the dew of Paradise: 
A ray of light, he comes to bless 
And banish care and loneliness. 

Soft is the hand with which he knocks, 
And right into each heart he walks- 
How gently thrill those tinger-tips! 
A field of clover cheeks and lips. 

His eyes— look heaven tlj rough and through 
That is their color, heaven's blue- 
But ah, their soul you can not see, 
So deeply veiled in mystery. 

His voice— just think of all sweet notes 
That ever welled from songster's throats; 
Think of the sweetest— that's like his, 
The essence of all melodies. 

His hair— his brow— his limbs— his grace— 
O Art! go, hide your blushing face! 
You never wrought a work so fine; 
The Hand that formed him is Divine. 

O, Paul! sweet cherub! honied flower! 
Your presence brightens every hour— 
To us the gates of Paradise 
You open with your lips— your eyes! 



93 



THE LONG NIGHT. 



On the death of little Paul. 



^' "nr^IS dark, papa !" The film of death spread o'er his sight, 
I And as his eyes grew dim he thought 'twas night. 

'Tis true, 'twas night; too true! the night that has no moon, 
Nor star of golden hue — it came too soon. 

And yet perhaps there came, in answer to his prayer 
For light, a heavenly flame to greet him there. 

That to another day he was that moment born. 
That passeth not away with dewy morn. 

That with the darkness here, and with the fleeting breath, 
He sped unto that sphere where is no death. 

Lord, we believe — cast out our fears and soothe our grief; 
With love remove all doubt and unbelief. 

" That such should die," said Christ, " 'Tis not my Father's will;' 
Bright hope! shine through the mist — he liveth still. 

A DAY IN JUNE. 



DAY in June! O perfect day! 
O day in which 'tis bliss to live ! 
O glow of heaven adown life's way. 
The brightest heaven has to give ! 

How glorious is this day in June, 
With roses kissed to blushes fair! 

With Nature's golden harp in tune 
Responsive to the fragrant air! 



94 



How gently fall its silvery beams 
Wide o'er the verdant, happy earth; 

While every fount of beauty gleams 
And dances in its joyous mirth. 

How deeply blue are skies above! 

How green are hills and vales beneath! 
And how, from every mead and grove. 

There ripples forth the songster's breath! 

While on this ferny couch I lie 
And half asleep around me gaze, 

I see the embronzed dragon-fly 
Flash back the sun's meridian blaze. 

Around that purple hill beyond 

Are grazing sheep white as the snow, 

And in a sky-reflecting pond 
I catch the water-lilies' glow. 

I hear the beetle's drowsy hum; 

The cricket singing to its love; 
And from the distant forest come 

The plaintive note of mourning-dove. 

To-day these happy sights and sounds 

Are to my weary soul a balm; 
A gentle healing of my wounds, 

A perfect rest, a heavenly calm. 

O lovely day! O gladsome day! 

I would not have thee pass so soon; 
But if thou must, linger I pray 

In memory long, O day in June! 




95 



AN INFANT SLEEPING. 



IN mother's arms, on mother's breast 
How sweetly sleeps the child! 
A birdling in its downy nest 
Just swayed by zephyrs mild; 
While over it a lullaby 

In mellow cadence falls, 
As from some harper in the sky 
Close by the jasper walls. 

Thus wrapped about with love and song 

It breathes celestial air; 
Its wafted spirit floats among 

Blest islands of the fair; 
While light all golden from above 

Shines through the crystal sea, 
It quaffs the fragrance of the grove. 

The spice of Araby. 

O, infant, gently slumbering there, 

How blest is thy repose ! 
Why must thou ever wake to care, 

Or pain, or earthly woes — 
Sleep on, in .calm and blissful sleep. 

In happiness divine; 
Sleep on, and never wake to weep! 

O, that thy rest were mine. 



96 




A MEMORY. 



I WENT one day into a mead; 
Sweet flowers were blooming there; 
I plucked a rose of deepest red 
To twine within her hair; 
But when I came, my love was dead — 
She was a lily fair. 

I put my rose upon her breast, 

White as the driven snow. 
And over her my love confessed 

And made a deathless vow; 
Her hand in mine I fondly pressed 

And kissed her marble brow. 

And now whene'er a rose I see 

And fragrant is the air. 
Sweet thoughts of her come back to me 

And of that rose so rare; 
The rose I plucked so tenderly 

To twine within her hair. 



97 



ASPIRATION. 



HIGHER would I arise 
Each day; each moment; yes, 
Would ever upward press 
Toward the mark, the prize 
Resplendent in its brilliancy 
That Christ, my Lord, holds out to me. 

But, O my earth-bound soul! 
How shall I gain that height 
Where shines that blessed light, 
Where waits that hallowed goal? 
How shall I drop this earthly weight 
And upward rise to heaven's gate? 

Listen! I hear a voice; 
It speaks in tones of love 
From those far heights above; 
It bids my soul rejoice 
And banish evVy doubt and fear; 
The way to higher things is clear. 

It says: " Think on the pure. 
The beautiful and good 
And things with God imbued; 
And then, oh, then, as sure 
As radiant stars ascend the skies 
Thou shalt in grace and glory rise." 



98 



THE STRUGGLER. 



THERE'S no help for the struggle r, none; 
Not even a word of good cheer; 
He must toil and battle alone 
Along his rough pilgrimage here. 

For just one encouraging smile 
He vainly may hunger and weep 

As he treads fame's rocky defile 
And faints on the towering steep. 

No star will he see, not a ray 
Of sunlight will fall on his soul; 

Through gloom he must make his own way 
Till at last he reaches the goal. 

In yourself, O, struggler, have strength; 

Have faith in yourself and the right! 
And surely as suns rise, at length 

Will stream an effulgence of light. 

The world must be conquered by force, 
The door of the heart broken down; 

The stream must be traced to its source, 
The cross is the wav to the crown. 




99 



BABBAKA. 



RADIANCE is in thy smile Barbara, sweet, 
And in thy voice there's bird-Uke melody; 
And 'tis a joy of heavenly purity 
Thy voice to hear, thy sunny smile to greet ! 

When life is all a dusty, grinding street 
Thy smile transforms it to a flowery lea, 
Thy voice to golden symphonies by the sea. 

Or whatsoe'er we mortals deem complete. 

What were this dreary world without such gifts, 
Just such as thine, to brighten life's dull day. 
And comfort give, when falls the shadowy night! 
A thousand thanks for such effulgent rifts 

As these through clouds that gather o'er our v^^ay; 
What strength do they inspire, and what delight! 

A '' ""^ — H ^ P — =— * ''-^ 

ANNA. 



ANNA! thy voice so pure and deep 
I've heard, like distant chiming bell 
Of mellow tone, whose wavelets sweep 
From some fair church-tower in the dell, 
That rise and fall and die away 
As dies a balmy summer's day. 

'Tis thus thy voice floats out so clear. 
Entrancing all the flowery vale, 

And telling all that heaven is near 

Where songs die not nor bliss shall fail; 

And unto many a troubled breast 

Revealing hope, and joy, and rest. 

Ring on, sweet bell! ring on and swing! 

And send thy pulsing strains along 
The flowing stream of time, and bring 

To burdened hearts thy soulful song! 
Ring sweetly on till life shall close. 
And all is hushed in calm repose. 



100 






THE LITTLE I CAN DO. 



THE little I can do I will, 
My talent shall not rust, 
However weak I shall fultill 
With faithfulness my trust. 

With greater gifts and greater powers 

Others may brighter shine, 
And mount the steeps where glory towers 

And homage reap divine. 

E'en this my courage shall not damp 

Nor my fond hopes destroy; 
I'll trim afresh my little lamp, 

Its struggling beams employ. 

The eagle on its mighty wmgs 

Pursues its flight sublime; 
' The nightingale entrancing sings 
And chains the ear of time. 

And yet the linnet on its spray, 

Wet with the morning dew, 
Salutes the rosy dawn of day, 

And pours its tribute, too. 

And thus is every spirit taught 

To do whate'er it can; 
The small is with the mighty wrought 

Into God's w^ondrous plan. 



101 






THANKSGIVING EVE. 



THANKSGIVING eve the Lord looked down 
With longing, loving eyes 
To find a thankful soul to crown 
With joy of Paradise. 

He searched among the rich and grand 

With all their thousands blessed, 
The lords and ladies of the land 

In royal garments dressed. 

"Not here, not here," the Master said, 
"Do I find gratitude; 
Forgotten, as though I were dead, 
The Giver of all good." 

At last a heart the Master found 

That beat with thankfulness. 
And cast its fragrant sweets around 

And rose its God to bless. 

The man was neither rich nor poor 

In lands or yellow gold. 
And yet no begger at his door 

In vain his sorrows told. 

He went, he came, he gave to all; 

He blest in word and deed; 
His heart responded to the call 

Of every soul in need. 

He made the troubled spirit glad; 

'Twas bliss for him to live; 
Rejoicing not in what he had. 

Only that he could give. 

The Lord looked down from heaven smiled, 

While bright grew all the skies. 
And said to him, "Receive, my child, 

The joy of Paradise." 



102 



4 



I CARE NOT TO SING FOR THE GAY. 



I 



CARE not to sing for the gay, 
Whose spirits are happy and free, 

Who walk in a flowery way, 

And drink from a fountain of glee. 



Whose life is a pulsating song 

Swept out of gold harp-strings in tune, 
Whose moments glide swiftly along, 

Whose day is a day in 'mid June. 

I'd sing for some mortal distressed, 
All burdened with sorrow and care. 

Whose hope has deserted his breast, 
And left him the prey of despair. 

I'd sing until hope had returned. 
And banished his soul-racking pain; 

Till pleasures for which he had yearned 
Were blooming around him again. 

And then, with some song of good cheer, 
I'd fill with new courage his heart. 

To faithfully labor while here, 
And act like a hero his part. 




103 



A SONG OF MOTHER-LOVE. 



L 



ONG years have passed, my darlings twain, 
On noiseless pinions sweeping. 
While peacefully your forms have lain 
Beneath the daisies sleeping. 

O, rosy lips, and hands and feet! 

Could I but feel their pressure! 
Could I those shining tresses greet, 

My transport none could measure. 

At times I think I cannot wait, 

I hear the angels calling; 
There is a knocking at the gate, 

The dews are round me falling. 

The stars are paling in the skies. 
The gray light of the morning 

Beyond the hills of Paradise, 
Comes with its gentle warning. 

O, Ida! my own turtle dove; 

O, Gertie! bud of heaven; 
Unmeasured depth of mother-love 

Fades not with day at even. 

It lives within my bosom yet; 

My darlings! it is glowing; 
While suns shall rise and suns shall set, 

A stronger passion growing. 

A fount of love that will not cease 

Until it greets the ocean. 
And rests in God's eternal peace, 

The shrine of its devotion! 

Then wait, my darlings, wait for me 
Where shines the glad to-morrow; 

For God is good and I shall be 
All purer made by sorrow. 



104 



ATTAINMENT. 



THUS said the noble Paul, '* I've not attained/' 
That he had striven hard how well he knew; 
Striven hard with blood and with the prize in view. 
And still the goal he sought he had not gained. 

Oh, runners in life's race with nerves all strained, 
Seeking for the beautiful, the good and true, 
Down on your path the heavens shake their dew,— 

And still the future beckons golden-veined. 

You've not attained, and yet you have, and may 
Still greater things attain. The final goal 

No man hath reached on earth. The perfect day 
Can here ne'er dawn upon the longing soul. 

Par in the distance, on the upward way. 
The light will come and darkness backward rolL 



31= 



WHEN. 



OH, when will these tempests be over, 
That long in their fury have raged; 
These clouds that in wrathfulness hover 
And pour out their thunders, assuaged? 
When scattered the roses shall be not 
On winds that sweep ruthlessly by; 
When the weary worn watcher shall see not 
Dark frowns on the bi'ow of the sky. 

Oh, watcher! have faith in the morrow,. 

'Tis promised, and surely 'twill come;. 
And with it be ended thy sorrow 

And thou shalt be resting at home. 
No burden thy spirit shall bear there, 

No grief shall thy heart ever know. 
No chains of deep cankering care there 

No grave but the grave of thv wool 



lO.') 



DEDICATORY HYMN. 



Siiiiji at thf dedicatory services of the Congregational cluircli, of Croston 
Iowa. September '2, 1888. 



ALMIGHTY Father! 'tis to Thee 
We dedicate this house of jjrayer; 
Forever Thine! O, let it be 

The object of Thy tender care. 

As Thou didst come in days of old 

To Israel in the wilderness, 
So do Thou here Thy grace unfold 

And Thy redeemed people bless. 

Here let Thy Spirit, like the dew. 
Upon our souls in radience shine; 

Our strength, our hope, our faith renew, 
While waiting in Thy courts divine. 

And O, Thou Lamb of God most dear. 
Who taketh all our sins away. 

Unto our hearts do Thou be near 
While at Thy cross we humbly pray. 

O Father! now this gift receive. 
And with it all we have and are; 

Within Thy house, O let us live. 
And find Thee ever precious there. 



IIHJ 



TO THE DISCOURAGED. 



Y friend, I see the lines of care 
Engraven on thy face, 
And e'en the stamp of sorrow there 
With certainty I trace. 

Within thine eye an anxious look , 

I also plainly see 
Hangs like a shadow o'er the brook, 

And breaks but fitfully. 

Thy voice is tuned to some regret, 

And trembles with a tear; 
O friend, 'twas not so when we met 

In those old days so dear. 

You've striven — the world has scorned your strife; 

You've loved — the world has frowned; 
You've blessed — the world has cursed your life, 

With thorns you have been crowned. 

O friend, I plainly read it all — 

I've tasted of your cup— 
Tlie bitter wormwood and the gall 

That hapless man must sup. 

And yet this is the faithful sign 

That you have heavenward trod; 
Yes, in it lies the truth divine 

That you have walked with God. 

Discouraged? No! That can not be 

While God is by your side, 
A shield and buckler unto thee, 

A shepherd and a guide. 

Go forward in the line of right, 

Let men say what they will; 
Thy glory like the dawning liglit, 

The darkened vale shall till. 



KIT 



THE BANANA VENDER. 



THE day is still; the world is half asleep; 
The brook scarce murmurs as it flows; 
A voice breaks through the silence deep— 
"Bananos, — sweet — ripe — ba — nanos!" 

At first the sound is far away, 

It hardly stirs the deep repose 
That binds the eyelids of the day — 

"Bananos, — sweet— ripe— ba— nanos!" 

And as I listen to that song 

I dream of islands far at sea, 
And richly from those isles among 

The fragrant air is borne to me. 

My sail flaps idly in the breeze; 

My boat, a cradle, gently rocks; 
The sun sifts golden through the trees; 

The sea-gulls circle round in flocks. 

And out upon those islands fair 
The golden fruit in clusters grows; 

Oh, happy scene that greets me there !^ 
"Bananos, — sweet — ripe — ba — nanos!" 

Nearer still — then, far away 

The voice like melting music flows. 

Or like the dying of the day — 
"Bananos — sweet — ripe — ba — nanos!" 
"Bananos — sweet — ripe — ba — nanos!" 



108 




THE GOOD DIE YOUNG. 



*^nr>HE "rood die young," 'tis said, and it is true; 
I Tlie good die young, they ne'er grow old; 

■^ And ever on their souls is seen the dew 
That glistens in the morn like gold. 

More true to say they never die at all, 

They only pass from earth away. 
On thro' the golden gate and jasper wall 

To walk the plains of endless day. 

I hardly call that death — 'tis only change, 

The entrance of another room; 
A lovely mystery, yet scarce more strange 

Than flowers rising from their tomb. 

Not only there, above, but here they live, 
Their presence meets us everywhere; 

Where'er we turn do they some token give 
Of their fond love and tender care. 

Not one I ever loved is dead to me. 
Or even slumbering 'neath the sod; 

Nor am I robbed of their sweet ministry 
Who once with me life's pathway trod. 

I think of them as living and near my side, 

As on me smiling just as of yore; 
Tho' launched upon the sea, yet they abide. 

Until I come, close by the shore. 

The good die young; rejoice, for it is true, 

Eternal life and youth are theirs; 
Goodness is like those gems of sparkling dew 

The rose in eai'lv morning wears. 



i(f.> 



GOOD night: 



[Tlie last words of President Artlmr were, "Good-iiiglit ! "J 



(> OOD-NIGHT, beloved, good-night; 
-J- Sleep well, soundly and well; 
-^ So sweet has been thy light; 
So sweet shall be thy knell; 
Good-night! 

11. 

Good -night, thou'st earned thy rest; 

Good-night; peace be to thee; 
The bird rocks in its nest; 

The ship rocks on the sea; 
Good-night! 

III. 

The night comes down o'er all: 

Night is the time to sleep; 
Around the shadows fall, 

The shadows dark and deep; 
Good-night! 

IV. 

Good-night; now close thine eyes; 

Soft wings around thee fold; 
Sleep on until the skies 

Grow bright with morning's gold; 
Good-night! 



110 



NOVEMBER. 

COLD is thy breath, bleak November! 
All brown are thy meadows and drear 
Sadly I gaze and remem])er 

That summer so lately was here. 

Where are the birds with their singing':' 

I list, but the woodland is still; 
Darkly the shadows are flinging 

Their forms o'er the murmuring rill. 

Where are the lilies and roses? 

I miss them wherever I tread; 
Her grief my spirit discloses 

Because of the beautiful dead. 

The skies hang leaden and dreary 

And red is the sun in the west. 
Lonely am I and so weary, 

I long with the summer to rest. 

Cold is thy breath, bleak November! 

All brown are thy meadows ar.d dreai", 
Yet, will I ever remember 

The past with its beauty and cheer. 



^^ 



GO, PLANT A FLOWER. 



G 



O, plant a flower within some heart, 
A flower of kindness rare. 
To bloom when other joys depart 
And shed its fragrance there. 



The heart that holds one precious flower, 

Just one of purest mould, 
Possesses more than wealth or power 

Ere gave to monarch old. 



Ill 



For wealth and power ^ive joy to none, 
At least but transient gleams, 

And like tlie midday summer sun 
Pour down their scorching beams. 

But human kindness! human love! 

Bright flow^ers that bud and bloom. 
Eternal springs of joy they prove 

When all is wrapped in gloom. 

Go, plant such flowers day by day 

To bloom in beauty rare, 
And as you walk life's weary way 

Their fragrance you shall share. 



_^ 



OLD FAMILIAR FACES. 



I 



^HOSE old familiar faces! 

Ah, me! I love them so; 
So dear, though they bear traces 
Of time, and even woe. 



Tliough silvered are those tresses 
That once were burnished gold. 

Ah, still my heart confesses 
The love that grows not old. 

Though faded are the roses, 
Less bright the laughing eye. 

My loyal heart discloses 
The love that cannot die. 

Oh, old familiar faces. 
Go w^th me where I go; 

Your souls my soul embraces, 
For oh, I love you so! 



112 



i 







APPLE BLOSSOMS. 



BLOSSOMS sweet and fair, 
Wafting your fragrance wide 
Upon the misty air 
Of spring's delicious tide! 

We hail you once again 
As harbingers most bright 

Of summer's golden reign, 
Sweet children of the light. 

Where were ye when the breath 

Of winter fierce and cold 
Plung arrows tipped with death 

Upon the fleecy wold? 

Sweet gems where did ye hide? 

Within the sun's warm breast? 
In heaven did ye abide, 

In gardens of the blest? 

No matter! ye are here 
In beauty pink and white; 

Ye fill our hearts with cheer, 
Sweet children of the liglit! 




IK 



I SLEEP, BUT MY HEART WAKETH. 



Solo) noil's Son J?, v 



I SLEEP, but my heart waketh 
While by the darkness creeps, 
And till the morning breaketh 
A constant vigil keeps. 

O weary mortal powers, 
O rest you calm and still; 

The dew falls on the flowers, 
The shadow on the hill. 

Rest while the lamps of heaven 

Flame in the sky above; 
Sleep is a blessing given 

By Him who reigns in love. 

But soul, thou art immortal. 
There is no rest for thee. 

Thou lingerest by the portal 
Of heaven's crystal sea. 

Thou hearest music swelling 

Out of its bosom deep, 
Thy future glory telling, 

soul, thou canst not sleep. 

And at thy casement knocking 
There is an unseen hand. 

And in thy garden walking, 
A Spirit true and grand. 

Spirit, I am not sleeping, 

1 watch with stars above; 
While by these shades are creeping 

I wait the dawn of love. 



114 



JOHN B. GOUGH. 



ANOTHER harp in silence luin«- 
Upon the walls of fame. 
Another heavenly halo tiiinir 
Around a deathless name. 

No other hand that harp could sweep 

As that now cold and still: 
So stir emotions, stronj^ and dee]), 

And sway them all at will. 

Alas! that such a tongue as his. 

Touched with celestial tire, 
A fount of tender melodies. 

Should e'er in death expire. 

Alas! that heaven should kiss away 

His soul into its hght, 
And rob us of so sweet a ray 

That cheered this earth's dark niyht. 

But then if souls can speak I know 

He sure has carried hence 
What he possessed while here below, 

His melting eloquence. 

And round him gather souls of men. 
Spell-bound, his tale to hear 

Of all he felt and suffered when 
He trod this earthly sphere. 

How onward moved each uol)lo cause 
As passed the solemn years: 

And there I note the true applause 
Of laughter and of tears. 

Farewell! farewell! immortal tongue! 

Pure as the stars thy fame! 
A halo bright as heaven is tiung 

Around thv deathless name! 



11.-) 



A SONG OF LIFE. 



M 



AKE life long" by noble deeds, 

Make it sweet by loving; 
Walk in paths where duty leads, 
Ever onward moving. 



Life is short in point of years, 
Bitter oft with sorrow; 

Dim we look thro' mist of tears 
Toward the dread to-morrow. 

It were naught if this be all: 
Breathing, sleeping, waking; 

Gleam of sunshine — then a pall- 
Hearts with anguish breaking. 

Were this all, O then at best 
Life's a withered flower; 

Sweeter far to be at rest 
From its blighting power. 

We may make it what we will, 
Grand in strength and beauty. 

And with sheaves our bosoms fill. 
Gleaned from fields of duty. 

Make life long by noble deeds, 
Make it sweet by loving; 

And as day the night succeeds, 
Onward ever moving. 



hi; 



SATURDAY NIGHT. 

THE week is o'er, and all its work is done; 
The weary toiler seeks his rest; 
Nor is he grieved to see the faithful sun, 
A tiery ball, sink in the west. 

Six days of steady, unremitting beat 
Of feeling heart and thinking brain. 

Of busy hands and (luiek, obedient feet; 
Of every power a constant strain. 

How good to have the bended bow relaxed, 

The heavy burden laid aside, 
And all our bonded faculties untaxed, 

And freedom come, a joyous tide! 

To leave behind the counting-room and mart, 

To think no more of unpaid bills. 
To find in walks from these dull things apart 

That which our higher nature lills. 

To quaff the fragrance of the flowers again. 

To open nature's pictured book, 
To listen to the robin's vesper strain 

Within some cool, sequestered nook. 

To feel that God did not intend this life 

To be a constant round of care. 
Nor that amid its ceaseless toil and strife 

Man should a brow of sorrow wear. 

These resting spots, these happy breathing spells^ 
When by the murmuring streams we stray, 

Or gaze on meadows starred with asphodels 
Are God's sweet whisi)erings by the way. 



u: 



God's whisperings are these unto our souls, 

Divinest joys and jjrophecies 
Of that which is to come, where ever rolls 

The peace of God, beyond the skies. 

Leave then thy toil and care my brother man 
When thy six days of labor end; 

Accept of heaven's benignant plan, 

And walk with God as friend with friend. 

SOME DAY. 



L 



IPE'S "fitful fever will be o'er," 
And we shall toss in pain no more; 
In peace will hush the breakers' roar, 
Some day. 



These bitter tears will cease to flow, 
These piercing thorns will cease to grow. 
And there w^ill be an end of woe, 
Some day. 

Dark clouds will all have drifted by. 
Above will smile the calm blue sky. 
And joy will till the tearless eye. 
Some day. 

And we shall hear each other sing, 
The rose w411 bloom in endless spring. 
The frosts of winter will not sting, 
Some day. 

The time will come when we shall be 
From all these binding fetters free; 
Sweet light will come to you and me, 
Some dav. 



118 







B 



BLANCHE. 

LANCHE, my dainty little maiden 
With hair as dark as night; 
With eyes so bright the stars fade in 
Their softly beaming light. 



With cheeks that with the roses vie, 
With teeth of whitest pearl; 

With lips of cherries' purple dye, 
My bonnie blithesome girl. 

Thy coming is a radiant gleam 

That dances o'er the lea, 
Or like some fairy in a droau\ 

While floating on the sea. 

Or like a modest violet, 

Or apple's ruddy bloom; 
Or, like a spray of mignonette, 

All beauty and perfume. 

But words reveal their poverty 

Attempting to convey 
The graces that reside in thee. 

Outrivaling the day. 

An angel from the skies thou art. 

Arrayed in dewy sheen; 
I own thy scepter o'er my heart 

My dainty little queen. 



ir.> 



THE ROBIN'S WELCOME ODE. 



R 



OBIN, we welcome your advent again, 
We joy at the song that you sing; 
Our hearts beat high to your clear liquid strain^ 
We welcome you, prophet of spring! 



How glad to exchange the cold winter's hiss, 
That sends through our bosoms a chill. 

For notes that are born 'mid transports of bliss. 
The sound of your love-making trill. 

For when the bright sun sinks red in the w^est 

And soft is the evening gale. 
What melody from your bonnie brown breast 

Entrances the listening vale! 

Welcome! dear robin, to orchard and wood; 

Thrice welcome the sight of your wing! 
Come, build your round nest and nourish your broody 

And evermore joyfully sing. 

Sing o'er the grave of bleak winter that's past. 

And sing to the blossoms and flowers; 
Wake the glad mornings while summer shall last 

And brighten this pathway of ours! 



120 



A YEAR IN PARADISE. 



^pHOU'ST been in paradise a year, 
I Yes, just a year to-day; 

But I am sure if thou wert here 
Some clouds would drift away. 

What joy, what strength thou gavest mo,. 

When we were side by side! 
How my fond heart was wed to thee, 

Indissolubly tied! 

A better friend man never knew 

Here in this vale of tears, 
Or one more noble, good, and true^ 

And thou wast mine for years. 

But thou art gone to jjaradise, 

And its a year to-day 
Since thou didst close thy loving eyes 

And gently pass away. 

In paradise where all is light, 

Where skies are ever clear, 
Where day rolls on without a night, 

Thou'st been a long, long year. 

What thou hast seen and heard and felt 

No mortal e'er will know, 
But this, thou'st not in sorrow knelt 

Nor wept, nor tasted woe. 

I joy in all the joy thou hast, 

All that has come to thee; 
Hast thou forgotten all the past? 

Hast thou forgotten me? 

Still on thy heart of love I lean, 

I will not doubt or fear; 
Thou art the same, though thou hast been 

In paradise a year! 



121 



LIFE AND DEATH. 



THE Lord hatli poured a love of life 
Within our very souls; 
And tho' it be a constant strife, 
Our way with burning coals 
Be strewn, and sharp thorns pierce our feet. 

And crown our brows w ith pain. 
It matters not, life still is sweet 
And, somehow, must be gain. 

We have no love for death, and yet 

Is it not good to die? 
To cool the heated blood and let 

The soul to heaven fly; 
To lay the poor brain 'neath the grass 

To slumber calmly there, 
Wiiile the rose -scented zephyrs pass. 

And we so free from care? 

'Tis true, we say with every breath 

And every anxious thought, 
We have no grain of love for death. 

And life is gain, though bought 
With toil, and blood, e'en all we have 

With agony and pain; 
But when we see some Christian's grave 

The thought steals o'er us~-gain! 

■ '^^ < - " 



aUEEN SUMMER IS DYING. 



OUEEN Summer is dying. 
Her beauties are fading away; 
^^^^ The roses are sighing. 

The lilies are crying, 
"How fleeting, alas! is our stay." ^^ i 



122 



The robin is singing 
His tender adieu to his nest; 
The blue-bird upspringing. 
Swift southward is winging 
His way with a dirge in his breast. 

Hoar frosts are descending 
To glitter with cold on the green; 

Rich purple is blending, 

And royalty lending 
To the funeral pomp of the Queen. 

Farewell to thy glory, 

Queen Summer, on hill-top and lea! 
We'll tell thy dear story 
When hill-tops are hoary, 

And e'hill is the breath of the sea. 

THE FEVER OF LIFE. 



After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well." 

Sliahcsjnait. 



LIFE is a fever 
With pulse beating liigli; 
Hurrying ever 
Resistlessly by. 

Moaning and tossing 

In sorrow and pain. 
Like a ship crossing 

The billowy main. 

Burning the eye-balls, 
And heated the breath, 

Coldly the dew falls 
And life is in death. 



i_':j 



THERE ARE NO STARS. 



THERE are no stars in Orient skies. 
However brig-ht they shine, 
One half as bright as thy dark eyes 
That once did gaze in mine. 
There is no sound so musical 

By murmuring brook or sea, 
Not e'en the song of nightingale. 
As thy sweet minstrelsy. 

There is no rose that blushes fair 

In morning's misty grace 
That can with thy sweet lips compare. 

Thy radiant angel face; 
There are no shades of midnight deep, 

However dark they seem, 
But pale where thy long lashes svvee]). 

And where thy tresses gleam. 

There is no form so i)ure as thine. 

So graceful and complete; 
'Twas moulded by the hand divine 

That made the lilies sweet; 
And ever, when it passes by, 

'Tis like the dawning light 
That tints with gold the summer sky 

And banishes the night. 

There are no thoughts that come to me 

While wandering here alone, 
So redolent as thoughts of thee. 

Like meadows newly mown; 
There are no hopes of future bliss, 

When this poor life is past. 
That do not brighter seem for this, 

Of meeting thee at last. 



lL'4 



ii 



HER EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY. 



A 



CHILD no more, a womiin now 
You stand on life's threshold; 

A diadem is on your brow, 
Woven of fleecv gold. 



How short the time since you begun — 

But yesterday it seems — 
The path in which your feet have run 

To where the full day gleams. 

How soon the dewy twilight passed, 
And morn, with advent fleet, 

Her glistening vesture o'er you cast 
Her full-blown garlands sweet. 

How soon did April's fickle day 

Give place to radiant June, 
While like a fairy, leafy May 

Rounded her crescent moon. 

And now as on the rim you tread 

Of woman's holy shrine, 
May benedictions on your head 

Descend with grace divine. 

May every feeling, thought, and prayer, 

That animates your breast, 
Be pure as morning's light and air 

Above the mountain's crest. 

And as the years flow swiftly by, 
May heavenly powers confer 

Upon you, as earth's garlands die, 
Angelic character. 



THESE GOLDEN AUTUMN-DAYS. 



H 



OW near is God in all this hush, 
And in this purple haze; 
How near in every burning bush 
These golden autumn-days. 



In all things we His presence trace, 

His glory lies around; 
We see bright glimpses of His face 

And stand on holy ground. 

We hear his voice that steals in love 
Upon our hearts most sweet, 

And listening to that voice remove 
Tlie shoes from off our feet. 

And then to Him w-e humbly kneel, 
And lift our hands in praise 

For all the heavenly peace we feel 
These golden autumn -days. 




TRIAL. 



BY trial is proven 
What metal we are; 
Our strength or our weakness 
Affliction lays bare; 
The grace and the beauty 

Deep sorrows unfold, 
As fires of the furnace 
Bring out the pure gold. 



128 



' Tis not in unkindness 
Our Father of love 
Lets us, His dear children, 
Lite's bitterness prove; 
' Tis only to make us 
More holy and pure. 
And happy are they who 
Temptations endure. 

The brightest of sunsets, 

When evening draws nigli, 
Is marked by the presence 

Of clouds in the sky; 
And so shall our trials 

Adorn the bright scene 
AVlien dying we triumph 

In glorv serene. 



^'~ 



-^ 



TO A DAUGHTER. 



LIFE is before you, 
Soon 'twill be past; 
Youth's bright moments are 
Gliding by fast. 

II. 

Go gather honey, 

Now that you may, 
In red clover-fields 

Close by the way. 

III. 

When age stealeth on- 
Setting the sun — 

Kest then sweetly with 
Life's labor done. 



I'j'.t 



STRENGTH. 



T 



HAT man is strong who puts beneath his feet 

The mean and vile, 
And in whose heart where all kind feelings meet 

There is no guile. 



Who is not moved when passion's gusty winds 

White-cap the seas, 
But high upon the mount of reason hnds 

A throne of peace. 

Who bides his time when shafts of malice fall 

Around him fast. 
And knows that he shall rise above them all 

Victor at last. 

And though success upon him seems to frown, 

His cause forlorn, 
Yet sees by faith afar a shining crown 

His brows adorn. 

Who swerves not from the narrow path of right, 

True to the pole 
Whose star through all the gloomy shades of night 

Illumes his soul. 

Who strives each day some higher point to gain 

In higher life. 
Each day beholds some subtle tempter slain 

Amid the strife. 

This man is strong, and each day stronger grows 

In moral strength. 
Just as the river widens as it flows 

To greater length. 



1.30 






TO MY FRIENDS. 



T 



() you, O friends, on whom my eyes ne'er fell, 

Whose hands I ne'er have touched nor voices heard; 
To you, afar or near, where'er you dwell, 
My heart would send one bright immortal word. 



One loving word of cheer. One word to bind 
Your hearts to mine through all eternity; 

That we may all be one in soul and mind, 
In aspiration, hope, and sympathy. 

O friends, my heart goes out to you this day ; 

I long to know how fares it with you each ; 
What joys and sorrows meet you on your way; 

What providences now your souls do teach. 

If joys are yours and cloudless skies above. 
As fond I hope — then am I glad with you ; 

If sorrow's thorny path you sadly rove, 
I also feel the thorn and taste the rue. 

For this is true: the Hand that sweeps the strings 
Within your throbbing hearts mine also sweeps. 

And with that harp at times my spirit sings, 
And with that harp at times my spirit weeps. 

And so I walk with you where'er you go: 

One cup we drink, one star directs our way — 

Now let me speak that word — rejoice! I kn<nv 
To-day is better far than yesterday. 






i.ii 



I 



THE KING'S LESSON. 



[While CDiiversinsj; with the crown prince through the medium of pencil and 
paper, tlie Emperor Frederick wrote: "Learn to suffer witliout complaining. 
This is all I can teach thee."] 



ii TT TITHOUT complaint to suffer learn," 
l/y Was taught, O King, by thee; 
' * For thou in anguish deep did'st burn 
With sweet tranquillity. 

O royal teacher, heaven-sent. 
Endowed with wondrous grace; 

In thee what strength and beauty blent, 
To glorify thy place! 

O conqueror, in whose great might 

The dreadful foe was slain; 
Thou shinest a star upon the night 

Of earthly grief and pain. 

On thee thy God has placed a crown 

Thou ne'er shalt lay aside, 
And clothed thee in a rich renown, 

Transcending earthly pride. 

O King of thy great fatherland! 

O ruler most supreme! 
We gladly yield to thy command, 

And hail thy pennant's gleam. 

Subjects of thine we e'er would be, 
For thou did'st walk with God; 

Exalted in His majesty, 

And humble 'neath his rod. 



4 



132 



FALLING LEAVES. 



A 



GAIN the leaves begin to fall, 

Bright autumn leaves of gold and red; 
I see them from the tree-tops tall 
Drift softly to their earthlv bed. 



I see them and a gentle sigh 

My sad and weary bosom heaves, 

And e'en a tear comes to my eye 
To see the falling of the leaves. 

() tender leaves, do you not dread 

The chilling winds that search you round; 

The frosts that cut the brittle thread 
Of life and hurl you to the ground? 

To bid farewell to bird and bough 
And summer air and dewy morn? 

Have you no pangs of sorrow now 

To leave the homes where vou were born? 

O gentle leaves, farewell, farewell ! 

do sleep in silence 'neath the snow; 
Some unseen hand will ring your knell 

While winter sunsets redly glow. 



J*p 



BABY ELLIS. 



B 



ABY Ellis, beauty's blossom, 

How thine eyes of brightness shine. 

Like the stars in heaven's bosom 
With their light almost divine. 



Sweetest music is thy cooing. 
Morning blushes in thy smile. 

All our hearts unto thee wooing, 
All our sorrows to beguile. 



i.h 



Baby Ellis, household treasure, 
Ray of sunshine from above; 

Fount of comfort without measure, 
Fount of overflowing love. 

Baby Ellis, heaven bless thee, 
Angels guard thee day by day. 

Fragrant zephyrs e'er caress thee, 
Flowers bloom along thy way. 

Little cherub, round about thee 

Stand the mountains high and strong, 

Dark would be the world without thee^ 
Sad the sweetest notes of song. 

THERE IS A BALM. 



FOR every wound there is a balm, 
All sweetly healing; 
For every sigh there is a j)salm 
That steals upon the air to calm 
The perturbed feeling. 

Til ere is a solace for each tear 

Dear eyes are weeping; 
There is a hope for every fear. 
An angel-band is hovering near. 

Its night-watch keeping. 

E'en now lift up your eyes and see 

The morning blushing; 
It dawns the burdened heart to free. 
It opens heaven's gate to thee. 

The tempest hushing. 

Rise on the wings of faith and soar 

Toward that beaming; 
There pain and death shall come no more, 
The fount of joy upon that shore 

Is ever streaming. 



1:54 




OF FEW DAYS. 



LIFE'S turmoil will quickly be over. 
And quiet will reign in the breast; 
And tranquilly under the clover 
The weary worn body will rest. 

'Tis scarcely worth while to be scorning; 

To treasure up hate in the heart; 
For fast falling shadows give warning 

That we must arise and depart. 

'Twere better to love one another 

Than ever to harbor ill-will; 
To help than to hinder a brother 

Wlio toilfully mounts up the hill. 

'Twere better to scatter with flowers 
Than thorns rugged pathways while here; 

To banish the storm-cloud that lowers, 
Than cause a deep sigh or a tear. 

To forgive as we would be forgiven; 

To love as we would be beloved, 
Begets in the soul a sweet heaven 

As many have joyfully proved. 

A moment, and all will be over; 

The tale of our years will be told; 
Let love in sweet blossoms like clover 

Our spirits in beauty unfold. 



I.',,-. 



IM GLAD THE WORLD GOES ROUND. 



AND now the leaves begin to fall; 
Poor withered, weary things; 
The vine is drooping on the wall, 
The melancholy cricket sings; 
And still the world goes round. 

The field is shorn of golden grain. 

The sky is red at sunset hour. 
To changing winds the weather-vane 

Whirls oft upon its rusty tower; 
And still the world goes round. 

The days are shorter than they were; 

The evening comes with deepening gloom; 
The partridge darts with sudden whirr 

Across the russet heather-bloom; 
And still the world goes round. 

I look within the glassy stream; 

I mark the lines upon my face; 
I see the silver threads that gleam; 

The tracks of passing years I trace; 
And still the world goes round. 

Within the hall I see a chair 
That once a lovely form did fill; 

I clasp my arms in empty air; 
I wander to the silent hill; 

And still the world goes round. 

I lift my eyes across the main; 

I see beyond the breaker's foam;. 
I see my loved and lost again ; 

I see my ever nearing home; 
I'm glad the world goes round! 



13(; 







SONG. 



OH, couki I live them o'er a<^ain. 
Those golden boyhood years ! 
For my poor heart was happy then,. 
My eyes unused to tears; 
But now, alas, the days go by 

And bring no joy to me; 
Darkness is flung athwart tlie sky. 
And dark the sobbing sea. 

And is it true the sun doth set. 

And are we left alone 
In tears and sorrow and regret 

To hear the night-winds moan! 
To sit and wait for slumber deep 

To shade the weary sight, 
And drift at last in dreamless sleep 

Within the arms of night! 

Oh, faithless heart, why dost thou wail! 

Night is a blissful boon; 
The stars are hung upon its vail. 

And morn is coming soon 
When light thy longing eyes sliall till 

And happiness be thine; 
Earth's flowers are sweet, but sweeter still 

The fadeless and divine. 



l.!' 




DEATHLESS FAME. 



[Delivered in Council Bluffs, May 30, 1888.] 



ONCE more we meet to celebrate 
The bright eternal fame 
Of those who died to save the State 
And glorify her name. 

Once more is heard the bugle-blast, 

The sound of fife and drum ; 
O, how the memories of the past 

In mighty volumes come! 

Once more the voice of song is heard, 

The anthem of the free; 
O, how in all our hearts is stirred 

The love of liberty! 

Once more the golden orator, 

With inspiration's breath, 
Reveals the turbid tide of war 

And tongues of lurid death. 

Recounts the days of awful strife 

With an ensanguined foe. 
Who sought the Nation's precious life, 

Her final overthrow. 

And tells us how these boys in blue — 

God bless their memory! — 
The serpent of secession slew 

And set the Nation free. 

And how the flag they died to save, 

Without a single stain 
Now waves, and shall forever wave, 

O'er all our broad domain. 



138 



How human bondage, crime of crimes, 
The auction block and chain. 

Disgraceful heritage of past times, 
Shall ne'er exist again. 

No mother's heart can now be torn 
With anguish tierce and wild, 

As on to degradation borne 
She sees her darling child. 

No baying hound with heated breath. 

And cruel, open jaws, 
Pursues the fugitive to death 

Obedient to our laws. 

These things are past, thanks be to God! 

And to these men so true! 
Who round our sacred altars stood 

And died as heroes do. 

Once more the trees are dressed in green, 

The flowers bud and bloom. 
And loyal millions now are seen 

Engarlanding their tomb. 

Engarlanding with fragrant flowers 

Each low and grassy mound, 
Where sleep these heroes brave of ou rs 

With many an honored wound. 

And as they pass they drop a tear, 

A pearly tear, to tell 
Their gratitude to each one here 

Who for his country fell. 

The flowers may fade, as flowers do; 

And waves die on the shore; 
E'en stars in yonder heaven's blue 

May set to rise no more. 

But these brave boys shall never die, 

Nor their chivalric deeds, 
But shine in greater brilliancy 

As age on age succeeds. 



139 



Sleep soldiers, sleep, in memory l)lest, 

Beneath the oak or pine; 
Where'er your sacred ashes rest 

There is the Nation's shrine. 

And at that shrine shall incense rise 

To Him who swept away 
The clouds and darkness from our skies 

And ushered in the day. 

And you, brave stalwart veterans 

Who linger with us yet. 
Whose honored brows the wind still fans, 

We never shall forget. 

Ye remnant of a mighty band 

Fresh laurel we would luring 
And crown you victors where you stand 

And all your praises sing. 

Sweet be the days that come and go 

Until you join the ranks 
Of those who stand amid the glow 

Of heaven's sunny banks. 

So live that you may say with him, 
Your "Roland,'' brave and true, 
" I'm ready!" when your eyes grow dim. 
And bid the world adieu. 

And when the last reveille rolls 
Around the great white throne, 

May Christ your Captain greet your souls 
And claim vou for His own. 




140 



AT THE PATRIOTS' GRAVES. 



SOFTLY the bugle blow, 
And muffle deep the drum; 
Light be our tread and slow 
As to these graves we come. 
Here rest the patriot dead, 
Softly tread, softly tread. 

Sacred the dust tliat lies 

Below the emerald sod, 
The heart of Nature sighs. 

But smiles sweet Nature's God. 
Over this dust we now 
Lowly bow, lowly bow. 

Many have been the years 
Since our brave brothers fell; 

But freshly tiow our tears; 
For us they fought and well. 

So let our weeping be 

Tenderly, tenderly. 

And now our fervent prayer 
Above these holy graves 

Ascends through fragrant air 
To Him who hears and saves. 

(rod! who art everywhere. 

Hear our ])rayerl liear our prayer! 



141 



TRUST IN GOD. 



M 



Y God, I would not lose my trust in Thee 
However sad or dark my lot may be; 
But like a child weaned from its mother's breast 
Would still in all Thy loving-kindness rest. 



Though o'er me roll the all-devouring flood, 
And sweep away each fount of earthly good. 
Thyself the best of all doth still remain 
Unmoved, the life of joy, the death of pain. 

My God, how dear to feel Thy loving hand 
Press gently mine while all alone I stand; 
To feel upon my face Thy fragrant breath; 
Thy kiss, when all around is dark as death. 

'Tis heaven itself, my God, Thy love to know; 
And this e'er dawns 'mid scenes of earthly woe; 
The sun could never rise with rosy light 
Were there no silent shades, no somber night. 

Oh, leave me not, my God, oh, leave me not! 
Bereft of thee ! I cannot brook the thought. 
All else may go, if such should be Thy will; 
If Thou remain I shall be happy still. 




ECHOES OF THE PAST. 



AS in some pleasant flowery vale, 
With verdant hills around, 
When sinks to rest the evening gale 
And backward floats each sound. 
So come the echoes of the past 
From where the hills their shadows cast. 



Those echoes come from far away, 
And distance lends its charm, 

From shadows of a happy day 
That came with sunlight warm. 

They fall upon the heart like dew 

When stars look down from fields of hhie. 

The echoes of a childhood fair, 

When life was all serene, 
The echoes of an anthem where 

Heaven blessed the hallowed scene; 
The echoes of a blissful past 
That could not live were life to last. 



Ell* 



GOD'S PRESENCE. 



I 



NEVER saw a radiant flower 

Bend lowly o'er the sod; 
I never saw a mountain tower 
Above the clouds in mighty pcnver 
That did not speak of God. 



I never looked on ocean's blue 

When summer skies were fair; 
I never saw the morning's hue 
Reflected in the trembling dew 
But God was present there. 

I never felt a joy or pain, 

I never shed a tear; 
I never heard a glad refrain 
Across fond memory's golden plain 

That God did not draw near. 

And so I know 'twill surely be 

When mortal life is o'er — 
When far across the silent sea 
The boatman pale has wafted me. 
He'll meet me at the shore! 



14.3 



DEATH. 



Death, oft I've feared thy fatal 1)1()W, 

Now fond I l)are my breast; 

Oh, do thou kindly lay nie low 

With him I love, at rest. 

—[Burns. 

SOME call him " King of Terrors," falsely so; 
He comes to end and not to bring us woe; 
Deliverer and not our enemy, 
He breaks our galling chains and sets us free. 

Behold the man beneath his four score years, 
How like a weary pilgrim he appears; 
What does he seek amid his cares oppressed 
Except to close his eyes and be at rest? 

Behold the outcast; hear his burdened sigh; 
How hot the tear that trickles from his eye; 
Weary of sin he feign wotild be forgiven; 
No home for him on earth, he longs for heaven. 

Behold the soul whose cherished hopes are dead, 
Whose early dreams like rainbow tints have fled, 
Whose flowerless path with piercing thorns is set 
And winds across the plains of sad regret. 

Behold the form that writhes in ceaseless pain. 
Where purple fire pours through each pulsing vein; 
Where every breath in agony is drawn 
Through all the lagging hours from dawn to dawn. 

Beholding this, go ponder long and well 
How it would be were there no funeral knell; 
How it would be should kindly death ne'er come 
To hide the tortured dust within the tomb. 

Thou shouldst not dread the final moment when 
Earth seeks and claims her kindred earth again; 
Resign to dreamless sleep the weary clay 
In hope of waking to some fairer day. 



144 



TWAS WHILE I MUSED THE FIRE BURNED. 



T 



WAS while I mused the tire burned, 
I thought me of the days gone by; 
The ashes of my youth inurned 

Glowed like bright meteors in the sky 



I saw the dew upon the grass, 
I touched it with my tender feet; 

And to my lips I raised a glass 
Brimful of life, and it was sweet. 

I saw a morning di])ped in gold; 

Bright hopes like ilowers everywliere; 
No tongue as yet had to me told 

That sorrows brooded in the air. 

The sun arose with warmth and cheer; 

A song slipped out with every breath ; 
The little brook that murmured near 

Ne'er lisped a word of coming death. 

My heart beat high, it knew no wound; 

A stranger was my soul to grief; 
With joyousness the day whirled round; 

Alas! that it should be so brief. 

O embers burn, in brightness burn: 

Light once again fond mem'ry's hearth; 

To all tliat's good my hojjes I turn, 
But not to this poor fleeting earth ! 




u:. 



ALL THE DAY LONG. 



rT">HE precious Saviour's by my side, 
I All the day long; 

And when the tempests rise in pride 
Within the Rock 'tis then I hide, 
All the day long. 

Within my spirit there is peace, 

All the day long; 
'Tis something more than happiness, 
A foretaste of my future bliss, 

All the day long. 

He grants me His sustaining grace, 

All the day long; 
While looking on His patient face 
I stand a hero in my place, 

All the day long. 

So I will serve Him with my might. 

All the day long; 
He is my joy, my life, my light. 
My hope, my strength, my armor bright. 

All the day long. 




THERE'S REST BEYOND. 



THERE'S rest beyond, there's rest for thee, 
Thou weary toiling one; 
The rest of God's eternity; 
Oh, lift the eye of faith and see 
Thy future rest begun. 



I4r> 



There's rest from bitter grief and pain, 

From grief and pain and woe; 
These ne'er shall come to thee again 
To wound thy soul and rack thy l^rain 
And toss thee to and fro. 

There's rest from soul-distracting fear, 

From fear and anxious doubt, 
When threatening clouds do gatlier near, 
And all is hushed of mirth and cheer, 
And all is dark without. 

Beyond there is no loss of friend. 

There eyes will never close; 
That life begun will never end, 
And love with life will ever blend 

Like colors in a rose. 

LONG, LONG AGO. 



RED is the sunset sky. 
Pled as the velvet rose: 
The night is drawing nigli. 
Its shadows round me close. 
Come, Maud, sing me a song. 
And touch those ivory keys 
White as the snow among 
The tall and dark fir trees. 

Sing to me " Long Ago," 

That song of other years: 
Sing tenderly and low 

While daylight disappears. 
Sing, and the old refrain 

Will soothe my soul to rest. 
And bring to me again 

The scenes I loved the best. 



147 



THE HEROES OF PEACE AND OF HOME. 



Ifeud at the anniuil gathering of the old settlers of Pottawattamie and Mills 
Counties, Iowa, at Malvern, August 29, 1889. 







SING not, ye masters of rhyme, 
To heroes of Greece and of Rome, 

A subject more truly subUme 
Is heroes of peace and of home. 




The heroes of home and to-day, 
And not of grim history's page 

Whose laurels are fading away 
Before the white light of this age. 

Whose dreams were of conquest and fame. 
Whose deeds were of carnage and war- 

Who swept the fair earth like a flame 
And blackened its beauty afar. 



148 



Who threw down the rein to the beast, 
The tiger that sleeps in the soul; 

Who made of their fellows a feast 
And tyranny sought as a goal. 

For tyrants let pens be at rest; 

For tyrants let harps be unstrung; 
Their mem'ry should never be blessed, 

Their praises should never be sung. 

But heroes of honor and love, 

And heroes whom truth has made free, 
O'er these the sweet heavens above 

Spread glory an intlnite sea. 

Such heroes were you, pioneers; 

Your engine of war was the plow; 
Rich fields met your glittering spears 

The knee of the harvest did bow. 

The desert a garden was made, 

An Eden of beauty and light; 
Foundations of empire were laid 

In liberty, justice and right. 

Advance-guards of all that is good 

In science, religion and art; 
'Mid battle and tempest ye stood 

Unconquered and loyal of heart. 

With hope like a star in the sky, 
With faith like a staff in the hand. 

You looked with a calm, wistful eye 
For glory to cover the land. 

You looked and you looked not in vain; 

It came with the on- flowing years; 
And yet 'twas not born without pain. 

Its bloom was impearled with your tears. 



140 



The wigAvam and cabin are gone, 
The trail that the Indian pressed ; 

How fair are the cities upon 

These verdure-clad plains of the West. 

The church with its heaven-pointing spire; 

The school with its clear-ringing bell; 
The forge with the roar of its fire, 

Their anthems of victory swell. 

The track where the iron-horse flies 

With commerce and wealth in its train ; 

The line where the lightning defies 
The swiftness of thought in the brain. 

These, these are the fruits of your toil, 
The fruits of your ardor and care; 

Each foot of this blossoming soil 
Is stamped wath an answer to prayer. 

Tlien take the reward that is yours, 
The love of your own human-kind; 

So long as our country endures 
Be in its fond bosom enshrined. 

To you may it freely be given, 

When each shall lie under the sod. 

To gain that bright city in heaven 
Whose builder and maker is God. 




150 



H 



NIGHT. 



OW beautiful is night! 

Sable her garments are, 
Adorned with jewels bright, 

Pale moon and golden star. 



How quietly she steals 
O'er weary land and deep, 

And with her kisses seals 
Tired eyes to rest and sleep. 

She is a mother dear, 

She comes with mother-love 
To all her children here 

With blessings from above. 

She comes and whispers "peace!" 
"Peace to the storm-tossed soul!' 

She sa>s to passion "cease!" 
To grief "no longer roll!" 

She takes the wounded heart 
That throbs with bitter pain, 

And with her magic art 
Makes it rejoice again. 

She breathes of hope and song 

And glory yet to be; 
And says that right o'er wrong 

Shall gain the mastery. 

O, night! O, mother night! 

O, bear me on your breast 
To some far mountain-height 

That I mav be at rest. 



151 



ALONE, YET NOT ALONE. 



ALONE, yet not alone; 
Dear Savior, thanks to Thee 
For leaving heaven's bright throne 
To teach the truth to me. 

Alone — no voice, no friend 
To cheer my drooping heart; 

Alone — none to defend 
When flies the poisoned dart. 

No hand to help me bear 

The cross that weighs me down; 

Nor stay me when I wear 
With pain the thorny crown. 

Alone, when down the vale 

I walk with labored breath. 
And mortal powers fail 

Amid the shades of death. 

Alone! Alone! No, no! 

There is a voice I hear. 
That speaks in accents low. 

And tells me not to fear. 

There is a powerful arm, 

A comfort-beaming eye; 
A shield from every harm, 

A blessed Presence nigh. 

Dear Lord, I walk with Thee, 

I need no higher bliss — 
Thanks, world, to leave with me 

Such blessed loneliness! 



152 



TO A FRIEND. 



Y 



EARS ago, long years ago, 
T a child, and you not old; 

As the water-lilies grow- 
So we blossomed out in gold. 



In the golden wealth of love, 
Love that sparkles like the dew, 

Coining down from heaven above, 
Love so sweet and love so true! 

Years ago, long years ago, 

Friend, I put my hand in thine; 

Little hand it was, you know; 
You were something then divine. 

Years ago — then far apart 
Drifted we in channels wide; 

Far apart, still one in heart, 
One forever to abide. 

Rising sun and sinking sun 
Mingle now their golden beams, 

Murmuring rills that onward run 
Mingle now their wider streams. 

Furrows on the cheek and brow. 
Silver in the thinning hair; 

O the past, and O the now ! 
() the hope of meeting there I 




15,$ 



DUTY. 

HARK! a call! a bugle sound! 
Clear are its notes and full and round; 
The herald of each rising sun, 
It tells of duty to be done. 

No soul is born to sloth and ease, 
But wrought for stern activities; 
To summon forth its latent powers 
And fill with life the passing hours. 

To one there comes the call to stand 
Among the princes of the land; 
How high the honor, and how great, 
To sliajje the destiny of State. 

Another, in some corner hid. 
Must labor on untrumpeted; 
A coral insect 'neath the wave. 
The isle he builds is but his grave. 

But senator or artisan, 

Each bears the dignity of man; 

Each fills the place that God has given, 

x\nd each one shares the smile of heaven. 

To faithfulness and not renown, 
Shall come at last the fadeless crown; 
To simple duty, not to fame. 
Shall come at last the deathless name. 



ONLY. 



-.& 



{') 



NLY a little longer 

Of battle here below; 
Only a little farther, 
Dear heart, hast thou to go. 



151 



Only a little watching 

'Mid shadows of the night, 

And then the glorious splendor 
Of heaven's unclouded light. 

* 

Only a little heart-pang 
In bidding earth good-by; 

Only a little tear-drop 
Out of the closing eye. 

Only a little silence, 

x-Ynd then the glad refrain 
That swells and swells forever 

or triumph over pain. 

•>•*-< 



REST. 



D 



EAR Savior, Thou didst say, 
"Come unto me and rest!" 

Dear Savior I would lay 
My head upon Thy breast. 



So worn and weary I, 

My very spirit faints; 
Dear Savior, passing by, 

Give ear to my complaints. 

Life's weary cross remove, 
Or give me greater strength. 

The energy of love. 
To reach the goal at length. 

A perfect rest I crave, 

O, grant it now to me; 
Speak peace unto the wave 

And calm life's troubled sea. 

(), tender arms! O, gentle breast! 

O, Savior all divine! 
In Thee I find a perfect rest, 

Be Thou forever mine! 




ENVY. 



WERE there no envy in this world of ours, 
No foul suspicion, coiling like a snake 
Of venom full, and watching 'neath the flowers. 
Where unsuspecting footsteps fall, to make 
Its fierce attack, and hurl its cruel fangs 

Deep in the quivering flesh, how much like heaven 
Would this world be ! How free from bitter pangs 
Would be the bleeding souls now tempest-driven! 
Then throbbing brows, and eye-lids filled with tears. 

Would be serene and calm like some fair day 
In summer's golden prime, and doubts and fears 
Would drift like clouds before the wind, away. 

Oh, then, let us no evil thought conceive, 

Nor cherish hearts devoid of charity, 
Nor speak a word that would a brother grieve. 

But pardon all as we would pardon'd be. 
For each — and lo, the solemn hour's at liand — 

For each before the Master must appear; 
And, oh, that we may say as there we stand: 
"I sought to wipe and not to cause a tear; 
I sought to see the good and not the ill; 

For heaven's 'peace on earth' I daily strove; 
With comfort troubled hearts I tried to till 

And light my earthly brother's path with love." 

And then, to each, methinks the Lord will say: 
■'Enter, my child, into eternal day." 




156 



ACT TO-DAY. 



I 



S there some noble deed that you may do? 
Some point to gain on high? 
Act now, and thus unto thyself be true, 
To-morrow you may die. 



Is there some cheering word that you may speak 

While day is passing by? 
Go, let that precious w^ord the silence break, 

To-morrow you may die. 

Is there some grievous wrong that you may right? 

Or hush some deep-drawn sigh? 
Remember, while so swiftly comes the night, 

To-morrow you may die. 

Go, pour love's balm into some wounded heart; 

Go, wipe some tearful eye; 
Let not the act undone with day depart. 

To-morrow you may die. 

Yea, go, and make your peace with God and man 

Ere on your couch you lie; 
Secure a crown of life, 'tis wisdom's plan. 

To-morrow you may die. 



DON'T BE MEAN. 



A 



S out into this world you go. 

This world w here all your acts are seen, 
And where there is so much of woe, 
Be what vou will — but don't be mean. 



Where hearts are full of wounds and grief, 
And often break with anguish keen. 

By kindness give them swift relief. 
Be merciful — but don't be mean. 

The petty faults and foibles weak 
Of those around us let us screen. 

And not their swift exposure seek, 
The common way, 'tis true-but mean. 



Make others happy day by day, 

Give them an arm on which to lean, 

Smooth down their rough and thorny way, 
Do good to all — but don't be mean. 

Remember this, 'twill be your gain : 
Be simple, gruff or even "green;'' 

Be independent, bold or plain; 
Yes! anything — but don't be mean. 

MY MOTHER'S VOICE, 



M 



Y mother's voice I have not heard 
For many long and weary years; 
Death's winter came, and, like a bird, 
She sought a clime unstained with tears. 



'Tis said we never can forget 

The things on earth we hear and see; 
Though dead, they seem to linger yet 

Within the book of memory. 

And when the curtain rolls away — 
The curtain of this earthly night — 

Like hill-tops at the daw^n of day. 
The hidden past will come to sight. 

May it not be ere I behold 

The city where the saints rejoice — 
That I shall hear through mists of gold 

The echoes of my mother's voice? 

Will I not know it as I did 

When but a babe it hushed my sigh? 
When in that gentle bosom hid 

I slept to its low lullaby? 

It is a hope I cherish fond— 
A hope that makes me here rejoice — 

That I in that blest life beyond — 
Again shall hear my mother's voice. 



15S 



HUMAN FRIENDSHIP. 



OF all the gifts that heaven l)est()\vs 
On man in this terrestrial sphere, 
Where oft he is beset with woes, 
And often shetls the bitter tear, 
A friend, loyal and true, is far the best, 
And he who has one is most truly blest. 

Man's wealth and earthly good 

Fly oft on eagle's wmgs away. 
And he is left in solitude; 

Of light without a single ray; 
While on the earth he lays his aching head 
And longs that he might sleep among the dead. 

Youth, health, beauty, and pleasures sweet. 
Fade like the light of setting sun, 

And with his weary, bleeding feet, 
Man knows his race is nearly run; 

And glad he is to leave a world so poor 

That all it gives, it takes, and gives no more. 

But he who has a friend, one friend, 

A treasure has, so great, so good, 
That tho' all else may have an end, 

He need not weep in solitude; 
True wealth is his, a statf on which to lean, 
A solace rare that none can contravene. 

While age may rob us of our strength, 
And death our earthly life may blight, 

And all the fruits of toil at length 
Be buried darkly out of sight, 

Still, still that love, that human love, will be 

A tide of bhss, deep as the soundless sea. 



ir..) 



A CONTRAST. 



FIERCELY without the winds do blow 
And bitterly complain; 
In whirling gusts the blinding snow 
Assaults my window-pane. 

The sky with clouds is overcast, 

The sun is hid from sight, 
And colder still the wintry blast 

Sweeps on the wings of night. 

The earth is but a wilderness, 

A howling, dreary waste, 
A frozen picture of distress. 

As pitiful as vast. 

Yet here I sit within my room 
Aglow with warmth and cheer; 

While tender, blooming flowers perfume 
The summer atmosphere. 

Thus while it may be storm without 

And nature fiercely frown. 
No foe has shattered my redoubt 

Nor hurled my castle down. 

So in the angry storms of life. 
More fierce than wind and snow, 

When evil elements are rife 
With every form of woe. 

There is a place of blissful rest 
From all the waves that beat, 

'Tis in the Savior's loving breast, 
That heavenly retreat. 

Then let the world grow dark with hate, 

Mad rave the hosts of sin, 
And sweep life's desert desolate. 

It is all peace withui. 



IGO 




Scenes on Kock River, at Oregon, Illinois, tlie early home of tlie anthor. 






OREGON, ILLINOIS. 



A 



WAY with your treasures of art, 

However attractive they be; 
Oh, let me 'mid Nature apart 
Unchecked, wander careless and free. 



The river that winds with such grace 
Its banks so majestic between. 

That mirrors the sky in its face 
And smiles in its silvery sheen. 

The islands like gems in a crown 
Of monarch enthroned in his power, 

Where willows bend lovingly down. 
Creating a cool, shady bower. 

The rocks, some in garments of gold; 

Some gray with the mantle of time; 
The cedars, storm-beaten and old. 

That look from their summits sublime. 

The pines that like sentinels stand 
Unchanged 'mid the on-rolling years. 

The wavelets that break on the strand 
And vanish like ghosts of our fears. 

The eagle that poises in air 

A moment and circles away; 
The morning that breaketh so fair. 

The glory that closes the day. 

These, these are the treasures I greet — 
Oh, how shall my joy be expressed! 

These, these are the treasures I meet 
In Oregon, Star of the West. 

Away with your treasures of art. 
However attractive they be; 

Unchecked let me wander apart 
And revel sweet Nature in thee. 



163 



GANYMEDE. 



[There t.s at Oregon, Illinois, a magnificent spring to whicli Margaret Fuller 
who visited tlie spot in 1)^3, gave the name " Ganymede."] 



I 



MMORTAL fount! I've drank of thee; 

Thanks to the mighty Giver! 
And bright within my memory 

Thou shalt remain forever. 



Full to the brim I filled my cup, 

And to my lips I pressed it, 
And as I quaffed its nectar up 

Deep from my heart I blessed it. 

I'll ne'er forget thy cooling stream 

My burning thirst allaying; 
Nor how thy laughing waters gleam 

Among the pebbles straying. 

They come from Nature's deepest mine, 
Pure as the skies above them; 

They stir the blood like sparkling wine, 
And more than wine I love them. 

They gurgle out beneath the hill, 
The tree-tops bend to kiss them; 

A moment rest and then they rill, 
And down the bank we miss them. 

They join the river's brink below, 
Broad in its beauty sweeping; 

Softly singing on they go. 
As in a mother's keeping. 

Oh, Ganymede! thou heavenly boon! 

Oh, hills, and isles, and river! 
Though fair the " braes o' bonny Doon," 

My heart is here forever! 



164 



A WEDDING HYMN. 




T 



HAT heaven these pUghted souls may bles& 
How many prayers ascend to-day, 

That joy and peace and happiness 
May now be theirs and theirs alway. 



For this the roses seem to bloom, 
The sun to shine, the birds to sing; 

The air is laden with perfume. 

The breath of love's pure offering. 

And here amid the assembly fine. 
Where hearts are warm and true, is He 

Who turned the water into wine 
So long ago in Galilee. 

His blessing falls like pearly dew 
Where o'er the hills the rising moon 

Smiles gently down where daisies new 
Bedeck the emerald robes of June. 

He sweetness lends to every cup 
That happy mortals taste while here,. 

And when in sorrow they look up 
He wipes away the bitter tear. 



1«5 



Oh, may He be in every place 

Where they may dwell a welcome guest; 
And may they 'neath His smiling face 

Through all their lives serenely rest. 




BE KIND. 



N 



OT every one we see is cold 
Who stands from us apart; 
It may be that some sorrow old 
Is gnawing at his heart. 



For some have grief we know not of, 

And never can Me know; 
Within are bleeding wounds that prove 

A constant source of woe. 

Go, pity such; and kindly cheer 
Their spirits in their gloom, 

And scatter down their pathway drear 
Bright flowers of rare perfume. 

Athirst for love and sympathy, > 
Their hearts are growing faint; 

They turn their longing eyes to. thee 
As though thou wert a saint. 

Oh, give them just a kindly look, 

Or tender grasp of hand; 
' Twill all be written in God's book 
And to your credit stand. 

' Twill not be lost, but treasured up 

In this world and above; 
Oh, sweeten sorrow's bitter cup 
With sympathy and love. 



IRC) 



G. A. R. FUNERAL HYMN. 



OUR brother sleeps his last loiifir sleep, 
He ne'er on earth shall wake again; 
His weary eyes no more shall weep- 
Forever free from care and pain. 

A soldier brave he bared liis breast 
Amid the battle's deafening roar; 

But now has found his long sought rest, 
He hears the bugle sound no more. 

O ! comrades come and shed a tear 

And spread your garlands o'er his dust; 

How worthy he who slumbers here, 
Ho\(^ faithful to each earthly trust. 

Whene'er you meet in days to come, 
You'll sadly mark his vacant place; 

No more within the walls of home 
Will shine that kindly beaming face. 

Then bear him tenderly away 
To sleep within the silent grave, 

Where loyal souls their tribute pay 
To those we number with the brave. 




1G7 




THE SEA. 



^'T^IS by the sea I rest; 

I The restless, sounding sea, 
-*- While from its heaving breast 
I draw sweet sympathy. 

The sea and I are one; 

O'er each the winds do sweep; 
The clouds shut out the sun, 

And darkness mantles deep. 

The waves like mountains rise. 
And break upon the shore; 

While thro' the inky skies 
The angry thunders roar. 

Around the white foam gleams, 
Borne on the salt-sea breath. 

And to my lips it seems 
Like kisses after death. 

O, suffering sea, I know 

Full well that heart of thine, 

For all thy grief and woe 
Are here forever mine. 

'Tis by thy side, O sea, 
I lay me down and rest. 

For thy sweet sympathy 
Is balm unto my breast. 



168 



TO THE HIGH SCHOOL CLASS OF '88. 



T 



HE wall complete, the topstone laid, 
The price of honor duly paid, 
The battle fought, the victory won. 
The plaudit greets you all, "well done!'* 



And ere the roseate hour takes wing 
Permit a humble bard to sing, 
While fresh your brows are decked with bays, 
Some simple measures in your praise. 

Some simple heartfelt thoughts express 
Like blossoms in the wilderness; 
Or the soft murmur of a stream 
By which we sit and fondly dream. 

Behold the past! how clear it lies 
Abloom with hallowed memories; 
Not one bright spot is lost to view, 
Nor flower that by the wayside grew. 

Nor yet the storms that gathered there 
i\.nd swept the blooming landscape bare; 
That tossed the billows of the deep. 
And smote the mountains rough and steep.^ 

The clouds and sunshine all remain. 
The memory of joy and pain. 
The blending of the light and shade 
In hallowed scenes that will not fade. 

And in the past, what tender strands 
Were woven into silken bands 
To bind your hearts, as flowers are bound. 
While golden years went circling round. 



1G9 



And still the years will come and go, 
The tide alternate ebb and flow, 
And on and on life's stream wih run, 
And onward still will roll the sun. 

But what will greet you in these years, 
What joys, what hopes, what pains, what fears, 
No heart is wise enough to tell; 
And yet we know 'twill all be well. 

This life were blank were there no ill, 
A dreary plain without a hill; 
The sweetest song has minor strains, 
The flag we kiss has crimson stains. 

And they whose brows with bays are wreathed 
"Are they who battle smoke have breathed; 
And they whose souls with lustre beam 
Have '-rowed," not "drifted," on life's stream. 

Your future as your past will be; 
Reward will crown your industry. 
Life is a school where all are taught 
That they shall reap as they have wrought. 

Go then, with hope and courage true, 
Determined both to be and do; 
liife's day will hasten to its close 
When each shall find a calm repose. 




170 



A PARENT'S GRIEF. 



A 



LAS ! my noble boy ! so soon ! so soon ! 
Swept in thy manly force away 
Long ere thy sun had marked the hour of noon, 
E'en at the dawning of life's day. 



So soon the scythe that cuts tlie fragrant flower, 

That bears uijon its breast the dew. 
Hath laid thee low. Alas! the direful hour 

When fate its pall of darkness threw. 

Alas! the shock that rent thee from my sight; 

That sealed thy lips in silence deep; 
That from those beaming eyes put out the light 

And laid thee in thy dreamless sleep. 

Alas! the earthly hopes, bright as the morn, 
That now are scattered like the leaves * 

That frosts have nipped and winter winds have borne 
Around the longing soul that grieves. 

Oil, never more! sigh as I will, or pray; 

Search where I will, oh, never more! 
My gallant ship hath sailed away, away 

Beyond, and touched the further shore. 

Farewell, my son! I hurl my love to thee; 

To thee I hurl my deathless love; 
O let thy love in silence come to me 

Like light from golden stars above. 

While here I stay thy tomb shall be a shrine 

Where I shall offer incense sweet 
To God. And there shall joys that once were mine 

Return and blossom at my feet. 



171 



BEYOND THE DIVIDE. 



MY sun has passed beyond the Une— 
Far past — that marks the noon-tide hour 
Of Ufe. Its amber rays now shine 

Aslant and gild the moss-grown tower 
Of days long gone, with glory-beams. 

And now so near the end — the night 
That hastens swiftly on— my dreams 

Are of the past; of mornings bright; 
Of flowery meads sparkling with dew; 

Of stars of hope set in the sky, 
And things all heavenly pure and true, 

Too pure and true to ever die. 
And yet, my dreams are not of these 

Alone, but reaching out bsyond 
Time's shore, they pierce the mysteries 

Of vast futurity profound. 
And bring me tidings of a land 

Of endless day, of deathless life. 
Over whose bright and peaceful strand 

No wave of sorrow or of strife 
E'er rolls. Then let my sun go down 

If I but reach that blissful shore 
Where I shall wear a fadeless crown 

And rest in peace forevermore. 



•»_^__!'_?:^=1.J<1'- 



TO KATE. 



I 



F just a word, or wish or prayer, 
Outpouring from a soul sincere 
Could make thy life forever fair. 
Then nothing wouldst thou have to fear. 



For all that's good below, above, 

In time or in eternity; 
All peace, all happiness and love, 

I speak, I wish, I pray for thee. 



172 



WILD VIOLETS. 

On the presentation of u bunch of wild violets by two little girls. 



V 



lOLETS wild, violets sweet, 

Tender violets blue, 
With all my heart I bow to greet 
You, sweet violets, you! 



Out of the sod so cold and wet, 

Baby violets blue. 
Ye crept while winter lingered yet, 

Darling violets, you ! 

Ye come as heralds of the spring. 

Sunny violets blue. 
And even now the robins sing 

For you, dear violets, you! 

Sought out by laughing girlish eyes, 

Wondrous violets blue; 
Like darling angels from the skies 

They thought of me and you. 

O violets of earth and heaven, 

Violets pure and true. 
While far away the clouds are driven 

My heart goes out to you! 



3E 



EVER SPEAK AS YOU PASS BY. 



EVER speak as you pass by, 
Kindly speak and cheerily; 
Music's in your silv'ry voice, 
Speak, and make some heart rejoice. 

Sunshine rests in kindly words. 
Sweeter they than songs of birds; 
Sweet the fragrant roses are, 
Kindly words are sweeter far. 



173 



Stars behind the hill-tops set, 
Kindly words who can forget? 
Flowers fade at close of day, 
Kindly words are bright alway. 

Sorrows weigh the spirit down, 
Clouds arise and darkly frown; 
Kindly words bring joy and cheer. 
Speak them while you tarry here. 

Ever speak as you pass by, 
Kindly speak and cheerily; 
Music's in your silv'ry voice, 
Speak, and make some heart rejoice. 




AUTUMN SIGNS. 



LEADEN clouds along the sky 
Hanging ever gloomily; 
Furrows dark, and yet between 
Strips of molten silver sheen. 

Nowhere heard the warbling thrush, 
Everywhere the forests blush; 
Sumachs wave their streamers red 
Dipped m wounds of summer dead. 

Sounds prophetic all of rain; 
Prophecies oft made in vain; 
Signs are these that thou art here, 
Golden Sabbath of the vear. 



174 



G 



REGRET. 

ENTLE eyes with tears are wet: 
Hearts in bosoms bleeding sore: 

Shadows of a sad regret 
Falling on a rocky sliore. 



Petals swept by winds away, 
Passion-gusts that quickly rise; 

Veiled the cheering light of day, 
Falling out of azure skies. 

Buried hopes and buried dust 
Resting 'neath their lowly mounds; 

Memories that eat like rust 

In the soul's unhealing wounds. 

Bitter tears are all in vain; 

Weeping brings no blessing back; 
Keep the thorn- wound and the pain; 

Walk along the stony track. 

Hound and round the world will tui-n; 

Suns will rise and suns will set; 
Heaven's day at last will burn 

O'er the grave of sad regret. 

DEATH OF THE MUTE. 



AND now the house is dark; 
For aye it had been deathly still: 
And now no light is there; 
Silence and darkness reign at will. 

Half -bound, the w^eary soul 
Had waited long for death to come 

To cut the last strong ties 

And let it soar to rest and home. 



\"> 



Poor, shattered tenement! 

Rent lute, and harp with broken strings; 
Deserted, cast aside, 

The tongue you held in silence sings! 

Celestial music thrills 

The soul that knew no sound while here; 
O flood of quivering joy! 

I note you in that glittering tear. 

Then let this poor earth claim 
Her ashes and her tortured clay, 

While for the soul awaits 

Of sight and sound an endless day. 



FLOW ON, FLOW ON. 



FLOW on, flow on, blest fount of song, 
Flow on and never weary; 
This path in which we tread is long 
And often dark and dreary. 

We never tire of blooming flowers 
That summer strews around us; 

We press them to these hearts of ours 
When shafts of envy wound us. 

The birds returning with the spring 
We hail with joy and gladness; 

Their notes through all the woodland ring, 
They rob the vale of sadness. 

The rosy morn, the dewy eve. 
The stars that shine atove us; 

The fairy dreams our fancies weave 
Bring near us those who love us. 

Flow on, flow on, thou mellow strain. 

Of thee we never weary; 
AVe hunger for thy sweet refrain 

When all is dark and dreary. 



176 




THE MINISTRY OF SORROW. 



W 



E should not weep because we weep, 
Nor mourn because we mourn; 

In bitter storms that o'er us sweep 
Some blessings still are borne. 



The ship that anchors in the bay 
Must needs be tempest-tossed; 

'Tis well we cannot choose our way, 
And that our way is crossed. 

The virtues of our lives are wrought 

Not by sunshine alone; 
The choicest gems are dearly bought 

By many a sigh and groan. 

The sweetest face lik^ that of flower 

At times with dew is wet; 
The moisture of bereavement's shower. 

The drops of fond regret. 

The brightest garments nature wears 
O'er evening skies are flung; 

The harp that melts the soul to tears 
By sorrow's hand is strung. 

The angels come in sombre guise; 

Sometimes with raven wing, 
To fit us for God's paradise 

Bv tender chastening 



177 



A THORN IN EVERY CROWN. 



THERE'S a thorn in every crown, 
However fair it be, 
Pressing on the forehead down. 
And piercing painfully. 

There's a stone in every path 
Thick strewn with roses sweet; 

Corners sharp and keen it hath 
That cut the tender feet. 

Sorrows dwell in every cup 
That mortals taste while here; 

Marah's bitterness we sup 
With all our joy and cheer. 

Jesus, Lord, we walk with Thee, 

Thy cross we daily bear; 
Help us walk submissively 

'Mid all our grief and care. 

Thorns and crosses of Thy will, 
Though oft misunderstood, 

Blessings are and working still 
Together for our good. 

Gold by fire is made more pure, 

The atmosphere by rain: 
Patiently let us endure 

The chastening of pain. 




178 



BY THE WAYSIDE. 



TRUTH. 



I^HE chain that binds the universe in one, 
The hght of every shining star and sun. 
The throne of God, of man's deep quest the goal, 
The fount of hfe unto the dying soul. 

TYRANNY. 

Tyranny is weakness, it hath been said, 
The truth I would most solemnly affirm. 

And he is weak who would with ruthless tread 
Crush to the earth an inoffensive worm. 

SPEAK THE TRUTH IN LOVE. 

Speak the truth, but ever speak in kindness 
Wouldst thou heal thy fellow man of blindness, 
Rough w^ords drive men from the true path away, 
While loving words conduct to endless day, 

BELIEVING AND LIVING. 

"Believe!" "Believe!" says the blind dogmatist, 
Whilst he himself the path of life has missed. 

" Live out thy faith," proclaims the earnest soul, 
As rapidly he nears the heavenly goal. 

KNOWLEDGE. 

Wouldst know thyself? then know thy fellow man, 
Contemplate him and all his actions scan: 
And then if thou thy fellow man wouldst know, 
Study thyself in all thy joy and woe. 



179 



ETTA SHATTUCK. 



STORMS that sweep against us here 
With such resistless power! 
O chilling blasts of winter drear, 
That blight the tender flower! 

How could ye smite in all your wrath 

The heavenly maiden fair? 
How could ye thunder on your path 

And leave her dying there? 

O pitying Christ, to-day we mourn 

And weep the early dead; 
The loved one from our bosoms torn, 

The joy and comfort fled. 

And yet we hoi:)e to meet again 

In yonder world of light. 
Where rise no storms of bitter pain. 

Where fall no shades of night. 

O Etta dear, so pure and true, 

Thy work was nobly done. 
Thy memory is like the dew 

That sparkles in the sun. 

Go to thy grave with honor crowned. 

With love that never dies; 
In duty's sunlight thou hast found 

Thy pathway to the skies. 




180 



LIFE'S MYSTERY. 



1SAW a rose last night, 
And it was beautiful; 
How beautiful and britj^ht! 
I said, "Now I will cull 
The lovely thing, and it shall be 
A joy forever unto me." 

I grasped its leafy stem. 

Its thorns my fingers pained; 
And from the flaming gem 
The petals earthward rained. 
My rose had vanished like a dream, 
Or snow-flake in some turbid stream. 

I walked away and said, 

" 1 think I dimly see 
In this fair vision fled 
Of life the mystery: 
That which tve love ice mn^t not keep, 
Else o'er its loss in pain ice iceep.^'' 

DOWN IN GEORGIA. 



[Charles J. Beckman, of this city, was one of the witnesses in tlie Cross (rial, 
at Ked Oak, and when he held np his left hand, the eleik of the court calU'd out 
sharply, "Hold up your right hand, sir!" Charlie, with much feeling, replied: "I 
can't; it is down in Georgia." A shout of sympathy passed through the crowded 
court room, a titting tribute to the brave and unfortunate Charlie Heckman.— 
Council Bluffs Nonpareil.] 



'^ T ET the witness be sworn — hold up your hand!" 
And up went his left his right hand instead. 
"Your right hand, sir!" came the startling command, 
" I can't sir! it's down in Georgia," he said. 



L 



181 



Through the court there flashed an electrical thrill; 

Forgotton were clients and statutes and laws; 
For an instant all was breathlessly still, 

And then came the thunder of hearty applause. 

For right he had given his precious right hand, 
Upward toward heaven he had raised it for aye, 

That mercy and truth might dwell in the land 
And our flag ever float in the splendors of day. 

All hail to the witness! hail to the brave! 

Let the vales echo his gallant reply, 
For he gave up his arm his country to save. 

His cherished right arm 'neath Georgia's blue sky. 

God bless the man of the empty coat-sleeve; 

God bless him, and scatter his pathway with flowers; 
And at the close of life's war may heaven receive 

This one-armed chivalric hero of ours. 



VK 




182 



THE MISSOURI. 



DARKSOME flood, proud-rolling' in thy course 
Toward the southern sea, no longer thou 
Dost rule. To Science thou dost meekly bow, 
Thy limbs are shackled by her mighty force. 

O'er thee the march of Mind in thunders hoarse 
Incessant pours, and Empire with her brow 
Regal with light and hope is moving now, 

And that which she unites naught can divorce. 

Henceforth do thou flow on, O river grand, 
And sing responsive, like a harp in tune. 

The lofty praise of these twain cities fair 

That on thy banks in budding beauty stand. 
Go tell the world in her resplendent noon 

What gems thou dost in thv enslavement wear. 



CROCKER'S BRIGADE. 



A WELCOME ODE. 



YE remnant of a noble band 
That once in valor stood 
A bulwark to our glorious land 
When treason sought its blood, 
All hail! ye veterans brave and true 

With all your battle-scars, 
With loving hearts we welcome you 
Beneath the stripes and stars. 

When storms wild-raved upon the sea 

And thundered round the sky. 
When e'en the star of destiny 

Was hidden from the eye, 
Par out upon the surging main. 

Beyond the breakers' roar. 
Ye sought the Ship of State to gain 

And guide it safe to shore. 



is:i 



That Ship you gained, its hehn you grasped 

And on through danger's night, 
While many hands in prayer were clasped 

That God would speed the right, 
Ye guided it, a valiant crew, 

To safe and sunny seas 
Beneath a cloudless sky so blue 

To kiss the fragrant breeze, 

" God bless you, then," we all exclaim, 
" God bless the old brigade," 
Eternal be your name and fame, 

Like stars they ne'er shall fade. 
While on our flag we look to-day. 
The proudest 'neath the sky, 
" God bless you all! " again we say, 
" Your fame will never die ! " 




184 



• 



WEARINESS. 



THE sun sinks slowly in tlie wost 
And long the shadows are; 
With dyinof day I too would rest 
Prom labor and from care. 

This burden I would lay aside 

That Ions? has wearie 1 me; 
Oh! let it drift upDn the tid3, 

Or sink down in the sea. 

Remove this heavy weight of years 
That bends me to the ground; 

I'm tired of weeping bitter tears 
And many a deep soul-wound. 

Oh, let me sleep and dream once more 
Those blissful dreams again, 

And live those happy seasons o'er 
When free from grief and pain. 

Those silent voices, let them swell 

Upon the evening wind; 
Those blooming flowers within the dell. 

Oh, let me once more find. 

Then fall ye dreary winter's snow. 

Ye bitter winds now sweep, 
Rush on wild storms, but let me go, 

I long for rest and sleep. 

I long to sleep, and dream, and wake 
In some bright world on high 

Where all is bliss, and no heart-break 
Shall dim with tears the eye. 



1S5 



OH! COULD ONE DIE. 



OH! could one die as dies the rose! 
How sweet 'twould be one's eyes to close, 
And calmly sleep on earth's soft breast, 
Clasped in the arms of blissful rest. 

Oh! could one die as dies the leaf, 
Without a sign of pain or grief, 
And find repose from storms that rave, 
Within some lowly moss-grown grave. 

Oh! could one die as dies the dew, 
Departing hence so pure and true — 
Drawn upward on the wings of light 
Into those realms so fair and bright. 

Oh ! could one die as dies the day, 
And pass as peacefully away 
As sets the sun beyond the sea, 
Bright emblem of tranquillity. 

Oh! could one die as dies the night 
That fades before the morning light. 
When earth awakes again from sleep. 
And weeping eyes no longer weep. 

So shall we die! so shall we wake! 

The night will come — the morn will break — 

The sun will set — the sun will rise — 

O! happy hearts! O! blessed eyes! 



18G 




COME BACK AGAIN. 




'T^HE birds have all come back again— 
O merry singers sing to me— 
Warm rains dash on the window-pane, 

Red buds burst on the maple-tree. 
Lo, spring has come 
With fife and drum, 
And pale bluebells wake up to see. 



Earth is soft with kiss of showers- 
Beautiful earth I love thee still- 
Flora is calling to her flowers, 

Bright waters dance to greet the mill. 
White clouds float by 
In yon blue sky. 
And green enrobes the sleeping hill. 



My thoughts go back to days long past— 

O happy days I love you yet- 
Why did ye glide away so fast 
And leave my heart with fond regret? 
O how I yearn 
P\)r your return — 
Did you think I could e'er forget? 




187 



TENDERNESS. 



T 



IS tenderness that starts the flowers 
On mountain-side and plain,' 
The gentle warmth of sunny hours, 
The patter of the rain. 



The mother o'er her baby-dove, 
Whose heart is full of bliss, 

Smiles down upon it with her love 
And wakes it with a kiss. 

So Nature broods o'er tender things 

In all her tenderness. 
And blossoms fresh and fair she brings 

With every fond caress. 

And so must we, w^ould we behold 
The flowers around us bloom, 

Melt with our tenderness the cold 
That bars them in their tomb. 

With gentle words and gentle deeds, 

And gentle, loving ways. 
We break the coating of the seeds 

Of love, and joy, and praise. 

These seeds around us in all hearts 

Are waiting for the spring. 
And love's the force that e'er imparts 

Life to the slumbering. 




188 



MY MOTHER-EARTH. 



FULL tenderly I love the eartli, 
She is my mother, dear, 
And from the hour that gave me birth 
Has whisi^ered words of cheer. 

Has held me in a fond embrace 

Unto her gentle breast; 
Upon me turned her loving face 

And all my being blessed. 

Has kissed my eyes to soft repose 

And opened them again 
To greet the blushing of the rose 

Upon the verdant plain. 

•Has touched my heart with light divine 

Reflected from the dew, 
That 'neath the sky has seemed to shine 

With love so fond and true. 

For me has spread her garments wide, 

Of colors manifold, 
O'er hill and dale and mountain-side 

With loveliness untold. 

Has pressed her cup unto my lips. 

Of glory and of power. 
And led me where the honey drips 

From many a blooming flower. 

For me has tuned her melting lyre 
And touched the golden strings, 

Enkindling in my soul desire 
To rise on eagle's wings. 

So tenderly I love the earth. 

She is my mother dear; 
I'll ne'er forget who gave me birth 

Though in a higher sphere. 



189 




THE UNRECOGNIZED. 



H 



OW many stars of purest ray 
Must shine within the sky, 
And move along their silent way 
Unseen by mortal eye. 



How many gems beneath the brine 

Of ocean fathoms down, 
Are brighter far than those that shine 

In any monarch's crown. 

How oft do roses bloom in vain 

And scent the evening air. 
And violets deck the verdant plain 

And die neglected there. 

How oft the matchless nightingale 

Pours out its song alone; 
No listening ear within the vale 

To catch one melting tone. 

And thus it will most surely be 
With thousands of our race; 

They ne'er upon life's stormy sea 
Shall paths to glory trace. 

And yet methinks 'tis quite as good 

To shine unseen, unknown, 
And live in peaceful solitude 

As on some gilded throne. 



190 



INNOCENCE. 




CELESTIAL innocence! how like the rose 
Just opened to the hght and wet with dew, 
So fragrant and of such heavenly hue, 
Surpassing that in which the sunset glows! 

Or like the lily, fair and white, tliat grows 

Beside the cool and sparkling rill. How true! 

Dear maid, with eyes so bright, I say to you 
Be pure. Thrice happy is the soul that knows 
No guile, the heart that feels no base desire; 

The mind that rises high above the things 
That taint the spirit and befoul the way. 
Be innocent, and then with golden lyre 

Fill earth with music, and on silvery wings 
Soar toward the gate of thy eternal day. 

>-^-^ 



AN EASTER CAROL. 



SING! sing! ye men and angels, sing! 
Ring! ring! ye bells of heaven ring! 
The stone is rolled awny. 
The Lord is risen to-day. 
Let every soul a tribute bring. 



Rejoice! rejoice! for death is slain; 

Broken the "King of Terrors' " reign; 
Emptied the darksome tomb. 
Banished the tearful gloom, 

For Christ, the Savior, lives again. 



191 



Rejoice, because we too shall rise; 

Ascend with Christ beyond the skies 
Into a world of light, 
Where is no death, no night, 

To God's own blessed Paradise. 

Oh, wave the lily and the palm! 

Oh, shout the praises of the Lamb 
Whose precious love endures, 
Whose blood the spirit cures, 

Who pours upon each wound His balm. 



HE LIVES. 



SEEK not for him among the dead; 
He lives! and ne'er again 
Shall bow His weary thorn-crowned head 
To die in bitter pain. 

He lives — all else must die, but He 

No more shall taste of death; 
Nor thorn, nor nail, nor cruel tree 

Shall mark his dying breath. 

He lives — I hear him say, " And thou, 

Dear soul, shalt also live; 
With my own life I thee endow, 

Eternal life I give." 

He lives — I live — O glorious day! 

O stars! O blazing sun! 
When all your years have passed away 

Mine shall have just begun. 

He lives— in bliss I close my eyes. 

Upon his breast to sleep. 
To wake with Him in Paradise — 

'Tvvere strange if I should weep! 



102 



CAN WE FORGET THEM? 



CAN we forget them, the true and the brave, 
Who died their glorious country to save? 
Who gave up their all for freedom and CJod, 
And baptized the soil with tlieir patriot blood? 

Can we forget them, dear Columbia's sons, 
Who marched in the face of death-dealing guns? 
Who stood like a wall our firesides between 
And the fierce foe with his terrible mien? 

Can we forget them, the men who set free 
Four millions of souls in captivity? 
Who wiped from the earth a hideous crime, 
And made the enslaved a man for all time? 

Oh, can we forget such deeds in a day, 
And Sparta recall and Thermopylae? 
Remember the fate of dark Waterloo, 
And laud our sires who the tyrant o'erthrew? 

When we forget them then let the bright sun 
Refuse in his glorious circuit to run. 
And the stars from their dome of heavenly blue 
Cease to look down on a race so untrue. 

We can not forget them; no, not so long 
As right is our shield and freedom our song; 
As long as the flag we hold in our hands. 
And claim as our equals men of all lands. 

We will not forget them, not while shall bloom 
Bright flowers with which to garland their tomb; 
As long as the land is washed by the sea. 
Thus long will they live in fond memory. 



l!):j 




EASTER MORN. 



T 



IS Easter morn, and o'er the earth 

There falls the light of holy love, 
And nature glories in the birth 
Of life immortal from above. 



'Tis Easter morn, and from the tomb. 
Where once was lowered precious dust, 

A voice is heard dispelling gloom 

And bringing sweetest hope and trust. 

'Tis Easter morn, and Christ appears, 
Triumphant o'er the dreaded grave, 

And dries the fount of bitter tears, 
And calms the storms that wildly rave. 

"Because I live, ye too shall live! 
Because I rose, ye too shall rise! 
Believing ones, to you I give 

An endless life beyond the skies! " 

'Tis Easter morn, I hear His voice. 
It is the same that spake of yore ; 

By faith I hear it and rejoice. 
My cup is full, I ask no more. 

'Tis Easter morn, oh, golden light! 

Knock at the windows of the blind 
And drive away the shades of night 

That lill with gloom the faithless mind! 



194 



THE BABY'S DEATH. 



ANOTHER earthly cherub Hown 
On wings of light away; 
Another household sad and lone, 
Another chord of minor tone, 
Another darkened day. 




Another empty cradle stands 

Before tear-blinded eyes; 
No more do soft and dimpled hands 
Music evoke from golden strands, 
Like that of Paradise. 

Another star of bliss has set 

Beyond the silent sea. 
I wonder when that sea, Regret, 
In death will roll away and let 

It shine again on me. 

But I must wait, with patience wait; 

How long I do not know — 
God knows. The thought of heaven's gate 
Is comfort to the desolate 

And solaces their woe. 



195 



p 



BE HAPPY. 



UT far away the evil thought 
That rankles in thy breast; 

Go bury it, and cherish naught 
That so disturbs thy rest. 



What matters it if there be ill, 
If storms sweep o'er the sea; 

'Twas never meant that you should till 
Your heart with misery. 

'Tis sunshine in this world we want; 

'Tis laughter and not tears; 
And heaven is ready e'er to grant 

A solace for our fears. 

Still more of trust and more of love, 

And less of unbelief; 
For as the sun shines from above 

God shineth on our grief. 

This is God's world and we are His; 

He loves us as His own; 
Why choose we pain instead of bliss, 

And for His bread a stone? 

The evil thought then put away, 

And cherish it no more; 
Let God's own love come in to-day 

And lock thy bosom's door. 




196 




THE GOOD SHEPHERD. 



BLESSED Shepherd thou didst find me 
Wandering far in deep distress. 
And with cords of love didst bind me 
In thy matchless tenderness. 

Thou with watchful care didst guide me 
Over mountain-range and moor, 

Keeping ever close beside me, 
Helping me the storm endure. 

Now within thy fold reclining. 
Naught have I to dread or fear; 

All my care to thee resigning, 
Blessed Shepherd ever near. 

Here I rest while storms are raging, 
Wint'ry blasts of piercing cold, 

All my soul with love engaging 
In my tender Shepherd's fold. 

O my Shepherd, for thy loving, 

For thy dying love to me. 
Take the praise I render, proving 

The deep love I bear to thee. 

Blessed Shepherd, now prepare me 
For the realms of endless day, 

And when life is over bear me 
In thy bosom far away. 




^^ 



197 




CHRISTMAS CAROL. 



LONG years ago o'er Judea's plains 
There flashed celestial light, 

And shepherds heard angelic strains 
Steal on the air of night. 



" Peace " was the burden of that song, 
"Peace and good- will to men;" 
It floated up the stars among, 
Then earthward rolled again. 

It told of Him who then was born, 

A Babe in Bethlehem, 
The herald of a brighter morn. 

With golden diadem. 

O angel choir with voices sweet. 
Well might ye sing that night, 

For then did earth and heaven meet, 
And darkness felt the light. 

Well might ye sing, for sin and death 

With all their pain and woe. 
Met with the Savior's first drawn breath 

A mighty overthrow. 

Then hope, bright hope within the breast 

Of man arose once more, 
And angry waves,, with foamy crest, 

In peace died on the shore. 

Dear angels, thanks a thousandfold; 

And thanks, dear Lord, to Thee; 
We bring our incense and our gold, 

And bend the adoring knee. 



198 



Come reign, dear Jesus, in our souls, 
Wliile angels chant the strains 

Of that blest song that ever rolls 
Upon celestial plains. 

Attune our hearts and let us sing 

The songs of love and light; 
And come, thou blessed Christ, and bring 

Thy peace to us to-night. 




EASTER ANGELS. 



''TT THY seek the living among the dead?" 
\/\/ Were the words the Easter angels said 
^ * To those who sought the Savior's tomb 
'Mid clouds of deepest doubt and gloom. 

And thus the angels speak to-day 

To tearful mourners by the way; 

They bring the same glad news to cheer 

Each heart oppressed witK grief and fear. 

There is no death, though eyes may close 
And hands o'er pulseless breasts repose; 
There is no death, though welcome feet 
No more the lonely threshold greet. 

'Tis only earth has claimed her own; 
'Tis only spirit upward liovvn; 
'Tis only memory yet more dear, 
Of all we loved and cherished here. 

'Tis only hope within the breast 
Like some white dove within her nest; 
'Tis only fragrant morning's breath 
After the night -there's no death. 



iw 




SPRING. 



WELCOME, welcome, joyous spring 
After all your wandering; 
Glad to see your youthful face, 
Form of beauty and of grace. 

Glad to welcome in your train, 
All your warbling birds again; 
All your flowers of varied hue 
yVith their wondrous fragrance too. 

Soon the trees' now bare and brown 
Flashing leaves of green will crown; 
Hills and meadows too will shine 
In their garments all divine. 

Now the plow in furrows deep 
Wakes the soil from winter's sleep 
While the horses plod along 
To the merry plow-boy's song. 

No more fear of frost and snow 
While the days still warmer grow; 
Days a Father's blessing bring— 
Welcome, welcome, joyous spring. 



200 



THE GOOD OLD DAYS. 



I'M thinking of the good old days, the days of long ag<n 
When my young heart was full of praise to God who loved nie so; 
And as the golden sunbeams fall upon the hallowed past 
How vividly do I recall those scenes that could not last. 




The little meeting-house that stood with vine-clad tower near 

The murmuring stream and tangled wood, unto my heart how dear! 

A picture I shall ne'er forget while memory holds her seat; 

The heavenly fragrance lingers yet, and there is naught more sweet. 

'Twas there the gospel first I heard in all its purity, 
And learned to love God's holy word that sets the prisoner free; 
'Twas there I found the precious cross on which the Savior bled, 
And there I saw that all was dross except the living bread. 

The preacher did not mince his talk to please esthetic ears, 
Nor hide all danger from his tiock to pacify their fears; 
But Sinai thundered forth the law, the law by Moses given. 
And wrath the trembling sinner ^aw revealed from God in heaven. 



201 



Then came the gospel's joyful sound in accents sweet and low, 
A healing balm for every wound, a solace for each woe; 
The blood that cleanseth from all sin, tho' crimson be the stain; 
The Christ who died my soul to win, the Lamb for sinners slain. 

And now I think as oft I gaze on altars rich and rare. 
And wander thro' the dreamy maze of choral song and prayer, 
How God came nearer to my heart in those good days of old 
When worship was devoid of art and truth was plainly told. 

Tho' times may change and methods too; the world in thought advance ; 
The word of God will still hold true 'mid every circumstance; 
The wants of men are still the same, their trials and their fears; 
The world's true light is that which came in old prophetic years. 




THE PIANIST. 



THE fragrant air is still, but soon it breaks 
With sound so clear and soft and far away- 
It seems like note of bird at dawn of day, 
When all the sleeping world to glory wakes. 



A pause. Then from the dreamy lakes 

There comes a troop of golden waves at play 
And dash against the rocks, while silver spray 

In rainbow tints a veil of splendor makes. 

And then, as if aroused, each trembling string, 
Responsive to her magic touch, pours out 

A tide of melody. The soul on wing 

Takes heavenward flight. The angels earthward fling 
Their bloom, while dew-drops glitter all about 

Like jewels on the royal robes of spring! 



202 



SIXTEEN TO-DAY. 



SIXTEEN to-dny! 
And lo, the buds have burst in Howers 
Under the sun and summer showers. 




Sixteen to-day! 
The sky is bhie and earth is green. 
And all is happiness between. 

Sixteen to-day! 
No clouds above, no thorns below; 
Sunshine and flowers where'er I go. 

Sixteen to-day! 
My heart is like a lark in May 
Soaring heavenward singing its lay. 

Sixteen to-day! 
Happy am I. O sing with me; 
O laugh with me; so free, so free! 

Sixteen to-day! 
Life is a dream, a beautiful dream; 
Spring-time, roses, moss-banks and stream. 



Sixteen to-day! 
O Time, stay, stay your rapid flight: 
You know my song must die to-night. 



•jo.j 



CHILDISH THINGS. 



AVlien 1 was a chikl. I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thonjiht as a 
child; but when 1 became a man I put away cliildish things,— I Cor. 13:11. 



rHILDISH things put thou away; 
Life is more than childish play; 
Something noble seek to do, 
With eternity in view. 






Vain ambition lay aside; 
What is earthly pomp and pride? 
Little else than base alloy; 
Scarcely worth a childish toy. 

Pleasures vanish like the mist 
That the rising sun has kissed; 
Hollow bubbles every one; 
Substance lasting there is none. 

What is chaff unto the wheat? 
Seek the things that do not cheat; 
Fill thy mouth with choicest food; 
Store thy heart with solid good. 

Delve for gold that does not rust; 
Build of marble, not of dust; 
Founded on the solid rock. 
Roaring tempests you may mock. 

Leave the childish paths of life, 
Gird you for the coming strife; 
Take the buckler and the sword. 
Fight the battles of the Lord. 

Then with earnest tiuty done. 
At the setting of life's sun. 
Weary, you will sink to rest 
On vour Savior's loving breast. 



204 



PREMONITIONS. 



AS mariners near the islands 
Where grows the feathery pahii, 
They are wont to catch the fragrance 
Of the spices and the bahn 
As it floats upon the current 

Of the invisible air, 
And delights the eager senses 
With a pleasure rich and rare. 




While winter still reigns and lingers 

Like one that is loth to go, 
While trees are still dark and leafless 

As under them lies the snow, • 
There comes a token of summer, 

A kiss from the sun on high, 
A fleecier cloud to greet us, 

A glimpse of a bluer sky. 

And so in this world of shadows, 

This world of sorrow and tears. 
Where oft our burdens are crushing 

And our souls are racked with fears. 
There's something that comes and tells us. 

By signs we well understand. 
That our earthly life is ending 

And nearing the better land. 



•_»<).-, 



Perhaps a gloritied vision 

Of the days of long ago, 
When wandering among the daisies 

In the simhght all aglow, 
When life was a glorious anthem 

With our hearts beating in tune, 
And earth was as full of beauty 

As a rose full-blown in June. 

Or maybe a touch of sadness 

Akin to a sense of bliss, 
When the wrongs of life are forgiven 

And pressed the pardoning kiss; 
When every thought of contention 

In silence stealeth away. 
And love like light of the morning 

Bursts into fullness of day. 

Or a voice comes out of the stillness 

Of midnight's bosom deep, 
While the soul seems wafted upward 

On wings of mighty sweep; 
And its tone is that of an angel 

Melting the heart to tears. 
While the heavens are tilled with music 

That charms the listening spheres. 

So cometh a jDremonition, 

A heavenly avant courier. 
To tell that our journey's ending, 

That home is drawing near; 
That our souls may rest in comfort 

Beyond the storm and strife. 
And wait on the shining border 

Of a higher and better life. 




iO!t 



FAREWELL. 



T 



HE sun (lips low my songs are sung; 
The weary bird now seeks her nest- 
Dim shadows o'er the earth are Hung 
'Tis time to rest. 



You've listened long and patiently; 

More so, indeed, than I could ask ; 
With gratitude and love I free 

You from your task. 

These little songs are those that came 
From out the center of my heart; 

They burned within my soul a flame. 
My soul a part. 

I gave them out as they were given; 

I swept my lyre as best I could — 
How oft are purest songs of heaven 

Misunderstood! 

Farewell! the night comes on apace — 
To me the night of silence long — 

Behold! one comes to take my place 
With sweeter song. 




^S^c:^^^Z^M^ 



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